ra  TH5   COLLECTtOS   OF   THE   bi'C   DE   MoR^ 


TVPOCRAVURE  BODSSOD,    VALADON   *   CO,    PARIS. 


meissonier's    "  1814". 

REPRODUCED  BV  MlRiSCEMENT  W,r„  THE  DOC  DE  MOB.VV,   OWNER  Of  THE  ORIG.NiL  PAINTIMG, 


LIFE  OF 


NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE 


BY 

WILLIAM  MILLIGAN  SLOANE, 

Ph.  D.,  L.  H.  D. 
PROFESSOB  OF  HISTORY  IN  PRINCETON  UNIVERSITT 


VOLUME  I 


.VMV,£e^    ^^.>iii**>5.*^ 


NEW  YOEK 

C!)e  Centurg  Co. 

1906 


Copyinght,  1894,  1895,  1896, 
By  The  Centuby  Co. 


The  DeVinne  Press. 


UNIVEESITATI    PKINCETONIENSI 
MATKI    STUDIOKUM 

HIC    LIBEE 
OPTIME    DEBETUB 


PREFACE. 

In  the  closing  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  European  society 
began  its  effort  to  get  rid  of  benevolent  despotism,  so  called,  and  to 
secure  its  hberties  under  forms  of  constitutional  government.  The 
struggle  began  in  France,  and  spread  over  the  more  important  lands 
of  continental  Europe;  its  influence  was  strongly  felt  in  England,  and 
even  in  the  United  States.  Passing  through  the  phases  of  constitu- 
tional reform,  of  anarchy,  and  of  military  despotism,  the  movement 
seemed  for  a  time  to  have  failed,  and  to  outward  appearances  ab- 
solutism was  stronger  after  Waterloo  than  it  had  been  half  a  cen- 
tury earlier. 

But  the  force  of  the  revolution  was  only  checked,  not  spent;  and  to 
the  awakening  of  general  intelHgence,  the  strengthening  of  national 
feeling,  and  the  upbuilding  of  a  sense  of  common  brotherhood  among 
men,  produced  by  the  revolutionary  struggles  of  this  epoch,  Europe 
owes  whatever  liberty  and  free  government  its  peoples  now  enjoy. 
At  the  close  of  this  period  national  power  was  no  longer  in  the  hands 
of  the  aristocracy,  nor  in  those  of  kings;  it  had  passed  into  the  third 
social  stratum,  variously  designated  as  the  middle  class,  the  burghers 
or  bourgeoisie,  and  the  third  estate,  a  body  of  men  as  little  wilhng 
to  share  it  with  the  masses  as  the  kings  had  been.  Nevertheless, 
the  transition  once  begun  could  not  be  stopped,  and  the  advance  of 
manhood  sufirage  has  ever  since  been  proportionate  to  the  capacity 
of  the  laboring  classes  to  receive  and  use  it,  until  now  at  last,  what- 
ever may  be  the  nominal  form  of  government  in  any  civilized  land,  its 
stability  depends  entirely  upon  the  support  of  the  people  as  a  whole. 
That  which  is  the  basis  of  all  government — the  power  of  the  purse — 
has  passed  into  their  hands. 

This  momentous  change  was  of  course  a  turbulent  one — the  most 
turbulent  in  the  history  of  civilization,  as  it  has  proved  to  be  the  most 
comprehensive.  Consequently  its  epoch  is  most  interesting,  being 
dramatic  in  the  highest  degree,  having  brought  into  prominence  men 


Yj  PREFACE 

and  characters  which  rank  among  the  great  of  all  time,  and  having 
exliibited  to  succeeding  generations  the  most  important  lessons  in  the 
most  vivid  lio-ht.  By  common  consent  the  eminent  man  of  the  time 
was  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  the  revolution  queller,  the  burgher  sovereign, 
the  imperial  democrat,  the  supreme  captain,  the  civil  reformer,  the 
viciim  of  circumstances  which  his  soaring  ambition  used  but  which 
his  unrivaled  prowess  could  not  control.  Gigantic  jn  his  proportions, 
and  Satanic  in  his  fate,  his  was  the  most  tragic  figure  on  the  stage 
of  modern  history.  While  the  men  of  his  own  and  the  following 
generation  were  still  alive,  it  was  almost  impossible  that  the  truth 
should  be  known  concerning  his  actions  or  his  motives;  and  to  fix  his 
place  in  general  history  was  even  less  feasible.  What  he  wrote  and 
said  about  himself  was  of  course  animated  by  a  determination  to  appear 
in  the  best  light;  what  others  wrote  and  said  has  been  biased  by  either 
devotion  or  hatred. 

Until  within  a  very  recent  period  it  seemed  that  no  man  could 
discuss  him  or  his  time  without  manifesting  such  strong  personal  feel- 
ing as  to  vitiate  his  judgment  and  conclusions.  This  was  partly  due 
to  the  lack  of  perspective,  but  in  the  main  to  ignorance  of  the  facts 
essential  to  a  sober  treatment  of  the  theme.  In  this  respect  the  last 
quarter  of  a  century  has  seen  a  gradual  but  radical  change,  for  a 
band  of  dispassionate  scientific  scholars  have  during  that  time  been  occu- 
pied in  the  preparation  of  material  for  his  life  without  reference  to  the 
advocacy  of  one  theory  or  another  concerning  his  character.  European 
archives,  long  carefully  guarded,  have  been  thrown  open;  the  diplomatic 
correspondence  of  the  most  important  periods  has  been  published; 
family  papers  have  been  examined,  and  numbers  of  valuable  memoirs 
have  been  printed.  It  has  therefore  been  possible  to  check  one  account 
by  another,  to  cancel  misrepresentations,  to  eliminate  passion — in  short, 
to  estabhsh  something  like  correct  outline  and  accurate  detail,  at  least  in 
regard  to  what  the  man  actually  did.  Those  hidden  secrets  of  any 
human  mind  which  we  call  motives  must  ever  remain  to  other  minds 
largely  a  matter  of  opinion,  but  a  very  fair  indication  of  them  can  be 
found  when  once  the  actual  conduct  of  the  actor  has  been  determined. 

This  investigation  has  mainly  been  the  work  of  speciahsts,  and  its 
results  have  been  pubhshed  in  monographs  and  technjcal  journals;  most 
of  these  workers,  moreover,  were  continental  scholars  writing  each  in 
his  own  language.  Its  results,  as  a  whole,  have  therefore  not  been 
accessible   to  the  general  reader  in  either  America  or  England.     It 


PREFACE  VJi 

seems  highly  desirable  that  they  should  be  made  so,  and  this  has 
been  the  effort  of  the  writer.  At  the  same  time  he  claims  to  be  an 
independent  investigator  in  some  of  the  most  important  portions  of 
the  field  he  covers.  His  researches  have  extended  over  many  years, 
and  it  has  been  his  privilege  to  use  original  materials  which,  as  far  as 
he  knows,  have  not  been  used  by  others.  At  the  close  of  the  book  will 
be  found  a  short  account  of  the  papers  of  IJonaparte's  boyhood  and 
youth  which  the  author  has  read,  and  of  the  portions  of  the  French  and 
Enghsh  archives  which  were  generously  put  at  his  disposal,  together 
with  a  short  though  reasonably  complete  bibliography  of  the  published 
books  and  papers  which  really  have  scientific  value.  The  number  of 
volumes  concerned  with  Napoleon  and  his  epoch  is  enormous;  outside 
of  those  mentioned  very  few  have  any  value  except  as  curiosities  of 
literature. 


SI  QUID  NOVISTI  RECTIUS  ISTIS, 
CANDIDUS  mPEBTI:  SI  NON,  HIS  UTEBE  MECUM. 

HORACE. 


TABLE  OP  CONTENTS 


Volume  I 
Introduction  '  p^^j, 

The  Revolutionary  Epoch  in  Europe  —  Corsica  as  a  Center  of  Interest  —  Its 
Geography — The  People  and  their  Rulers  —  Sampiero  —  Paoli  —  His  Success 
as  a  Liberator  —  His  Plan  for  Alliance  with  France  —  The  Policy  of  Choiseul 

—  Paoli's  Reputation  —  Napoleon's  Account  of  Corsica  and  of  Paoli  —  Rous- 
seau and  Corsica 1 

Chapter  I.     The  Bonapartes  in  Corsica 

The  French  Occupy  Corsica  —  Paoli  Deceived  —  Conquest  of  Corsica  by  France 
— English  Intervention  Vain  —  Paoli  in  England — Introduction  of  the  French 
Administrative  System  —  Paoli's  Policy  —  Origin  of  the  Bonapartes  —  Carlo 
Maria  di  Buonaparte  —  Maria  Letizia  Rainolino  —  Their  Marriage  and  Natur- 
alization as  French  Subjects —  Their  Fortunes  —  Their  Children 8 

Chapter  II.    Napoleon's  Birth  and  Ineancy 

Birth  of  Nabulione  or  Joseph — Date  of  Napoleon's  Birth — The  Name  Napoleon 

—  Corsican  Conditions  as  Influencing  Napoleon's  Character  —  His  Early  Edu- 
cation—  Influenced  by  Traditions  Concerning  Paoli  —  Charles  de  Buonaparte 
as  a  Suitor  for  Court  Favor  —  Napoleon  Appointed  to  Brienne  —  His  Efforts 
to  Learn  French  at  Autun  —  Development  of  His  Character  —  His  Father 
Delegate  of  the  Corsican  Nobility  at  Versailles 17 

Chapter  III.    Napoleon's  School-days 

Military  Schools  in  France  —  Napoleon's  Initiation  into  the  Life  of  Brienne 
— His  Powerful  Friends  —  His  Reading  and  Other  Avocations  —  His  Studies  — 
His  Conduct  and  Scholarship  —  The  Change  in  His  Life  Plan  —  His  Influence 
in  His  Family  —  His  Choice  of  the  Artillery  Service 25 

Chapter  IV.    In  Paris  and  Valence 

Introduction  to  Paris  —  Death  of  Charles  de  Buonaparte  —  Napoleon's  Poverty 

—  His  Character  at  the  Close  of  His  School  Years  —  Appointed  Lieutenant  in 
the  Regiment  of  La  Fhre  —  Demoralization  of  the  French  Army — The  Men 
in  the  Ranks  —  Napoleon  as  a  Beau  —  Return  to  Study  —  His  Profession  and 
Vocation 31 


TABLE   OF    CONTENTS 

Chapter  V.    Private  Study  and  Garrison  Life  page 

Napoleon  as  a  Studeut  of  Politics— Nature  of  Rousseau's  Political  Teachings  — 
The  Abb6  Raynal  —  Napoleon  Aspires  to  be  the  Historian  of  Corsica  — Napo- 
leon's First  Love  — nis  Notions  of  Political  Science  — The  Books  he  Read 
—  Napoleon  at  Lyons- His  Transfer  to  Douay— A  Victim  to  Melancholy  — 
Return  to  Corsica 37 


Chapter  VI.    Further  Attempts  at  Authorship 

Straits  of  the  Bonaparte  Family —  Napoleon's  Efforts  to  Relieve  Them  — His 
History  and  Short  Stoi-ies  —Visit  to  Paris  —  Secures  Extension  of  His  Leave 
—  The  Family  Fortunes  Desperate  —  The  History  of  Corsica  Completed  — 
Its  Style,  Opinions,  and  Value  —  Failure  to  Find  a  Publisher —  Sentiments  Ex- 
pressed in  His  Short  Stories  —  Napoleon's  Irre-jularities  as  a  French  Officer — 
His  Vain  Appeal  to  Paoli  —  The  History  Dedicated  to  Necker 43 


Chapter  VII.    The  Eevolution  in  France 

The  French  Ai-istocracy  —  Priests,  Lawyers,  and  Petty  Nobles  —  Burghers, 
Artisans,  and  Laborers  —  The  Great  Nobles  a  Barrier  to  Reform — Mistakes  of 
the  King  —  The  Estates  Meet  at  Versailles  —  The  Court  Party  Provokes  Vio- 
lence —  Downfall  of  Feudal  Privilege 52 


Chapter  VIII.    Bonaparte  and  Revolution 

Napoleon's  Studies  Continued  at  Auxonne  —  Another  Illness  and  a  Furlough  — 
His  Scheme  of  Corsican  Liberation  —  His  Appearance  at  Twenty  —  His  Attain- 
ments and  Character  —  His  Shifty  Conduct — The  Homeward  Journey  —  New 
Parties  in  Corsica  —  Salicetti  and  the  Nationalists  —  Napoleon  becomes  a  Politi- 
cal Agitator  —  And  Leader  of  the  Radicals  —  The  National  Assembly  Incorpo- 
rates Corsica  with  France  and  Grants  Amnesty  to  Paoli  —  Momentary  Joy  of 
the  Corsican  Patriots  —  The  French  Assembly  Ridicules  Genoa's  Protest  —  Na- 
poleon's Plan  for  Corsican  Administration 


58 


Chapter  IX.    First  Lessons  in  Revolution 

French  Soldier  and  Corsican  Patriot  —  Paoli's  Hesitancy  —  His  Return  to  Cor- 
sica—Cross Purposes  in  France —  A  New  Furlough — Money  Transactions  of 
Napoleon  and  Joseph  —  Open  Hostilities  against  France  —  Thwarted  a  Second 
Time  —  Reorganization  of  Corsican  Administration  —  Meeting  of  Bonaparte  and 
Paoli  —  Corsican  Politics  —  Studies  in  Society 67 


Chapter  X.  Traits  of  Character 

Literary  Work  — Essay  on  Happiness  —  Thwarted  Ambition  — The  Corsican 
Patriots  — The  Brothers  Napoleon  and  Louis  —  Studies  in  Politics  —  Reorgan- 
ization of  the  Army  — The  Change  in  Public  Opinion  —  Napoleon  again  at 
Auxonne  —Napoleon  as  a  Teacher  —  Further  Literary  Efforts  — The  Sentimen- 
tal Journey  —  His  Attitude  toward  Religion 75 


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TABLE    OP    CONTENTS  xi 

Chaptee  XI.     The  Revolution  in  the  Rhone  Valley  p^oe 

A  Dark  Period  —  Bonaparte,  First  Lieutenant  —  Second  Sojourn  in  Valence  — 
Books  and  Reading  —  The  National  Assembly  of  France  —  The  King  Returns 
from  Versailles  —  Administrative  Reforms  in  France  —  Passing  of  the  Old  Or- 
der—Flight of  the  King  —  Bonaparte's  Oath  to  Sustain  the  Constitution  —  His 
View  of  the  Situation  —  His  Revolutionary  Zeal  —  A  Serious  Blunder  Avoided 

—  Return  to  Corsica 84 

Chapteb  XII.    Bonaparte  the  Coksican  Jacobin 

Bonaparte's  Corsican  Patriotism  —  His  Position  in  His  Family — Corsican  Poli- 
tics —  His  Position  in  the  Jacobin  Club  of  Ajaccio  —  His  Failure  as  a  Contes- 
tant for  Literary  Honors  —  Appointed  Adjutant-General  —  His  Attitude  toward 
France  —  His  New  Ambitions  —  Use  of  Violence —  Lieutenant-Colonel  of  Volun- 
teers —  Politics  in  Ajaccio  —  Bonaparte's  First  Experience  of  Street  Warfare  — 
His  Manifesto  —  Dismissed  to  Paris — His  Plans  —  The  Position  of  Louis  XVL 
— Bonaparte's  Delinquencies — Disorganization  in  the  Army  —  Petition  for  Rein- 
statement —  The  Marseillais  —  Bonaparte  a  Spectator  —  His  Estimate  of  Prance 

—  His  Presence  at  the  Scenes  of  August  Tenth  —  State  of  Paris 93 

Chaptee  XIII.     Bonapabte  the  French  Jacobin 

Reinstatement  and  Promotion  —  Further  Solicitation  —  Napoleon  and  Elisa  — 
Occupations  in  Paris  —  Return  to  Ajaccio  —  Disorders  in  Corsica  —  Bonaparte 
a  French  Jacobin  —  Expedition  against  Sardinia  —  Course  of  French  Affairs  — 
Paoli's  Changed  Attitude  —  Estrangement  of  Bonaparte  and  Paoli  —  Mischances 
in  the  Preparations  against  Sardinia  —  Failure  of  the  French  Detachment  — 
Bonaparte  and  the  Fiasco  of  the  Corsican  Detachment  —  Further  Developments 
in  France  —  England's  Policy  —  Paoli  in  Danger  —  Denounced  and  Summoned 
to  Paris 106 

Chapter  XIV.    A  Jacobin  Hejiea 

The  Waning  of  Bonaparte's  Patriotism  —  Alliance  with  Salicetti  —  Another 
Scheme  for  Leadership  —  Failure  to  Seize  the  Citadel  of  Ajaccio  —  Second  Plan 

—  Paoli's  Attitude  toward  the  Convention  —  Bonaparte  Finally  Discredited  in 
Corsica  —  Paoli  Turns  to  England  —  Plans  of  the  Bonaparte  Family — Their 
Arrival  in  Toulon  —  Napoleon's  Character  —  His  Corsican  Career  —  Lessons  of 
his  Failures  —  His  Ability,  Situation,  and  Experience 118 

Chapter  XV.  "The  Supper  of  Beaucaire" 

Revolutionary  Madness  —  Uprising  of  the  Girondists  —  Convention  Forces  Be- 
fore Avignon  —  Bonaparte's  First  Success  in  Arms  —  Its  Effect  Upon  his  Career 

—  His  Political  Pamphlet  —  The  Genius  it  Displays  —  Accepted  and  Published 

by  Authority  —  Seizure  of  Toulon  by  the  Allies 127 

Chapter  XVI.     Toulon 

The  Jacobin  Power  Threatened  —  Bonaparte's  Fate  —  His  Appointment  at  Tou- 
lon —  His  Ability  as  an  Artillerist  —  His  Name  Mentioned  with  Distinction  — 
His  Plan  of  Operations  —  The  Pall  of  Toulon  —  Bonaparte  a  General  of  Bri- 
gade—  Behavior  of  the  Jacobin  Victors  —  A  Corsican  Plot  —  Horroi-s  of  the 
French  Revolution 133 


^  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS 

Chapter  XVII.    A  Jacobin  Geneeal  p^gb 

Transformation  in  Bonaparte's  Character  —  Confirmed  as  a  French  General 

Conduct  of  his  Brothers — Napoleon's  Caution  —  His  Report  on  Marseilles  — 

The  New  French  Army  —  Bonaparte  the  Jacobin  Leader  —  Hostilities  with  Aus- 
tria and  Sardinia  — Enthusiasm  of  the  French  Troops— Bonaparte  in  Society- 
His  Plan  for  an  Italian  Campaign 139 

Chapter  XVIII.    Vicissitudes  m  War  and  Diplomacy 

Signs  of  Maturity  —  The  Mission  to  Genoa  —  Course  of  the  French  Republic  — 
The  "  Terror  "  —  Thermidor  —  Bonaparte  a  Scapegoat  —  His  Prescience  —  Ad- 
ventures of  his  Brothers  —  Napoleon's  Defense  of  his  French  Patriotism  — 
Bloodshedding  for  Amusement  —  New  Expedition  against  Corsica  —  Bona- 
pEirte's  Advice  for  its  Conduct 146 

Chapter  XIX.  The  End  of  Apprenticeship 

The  English  Conquest  of  Corsica  —  Effects  in  Italy  —  The  Buonapartes  at  Tou- 
lon —  Napoleon  Thwarted  Again  —  Departure  for  Paris  —  His  Character  Deter- 
mined—  His  Capacities  —  Reaction  from  the  "Terror" — Resolutions  of  the 
Convention  —  Parties  in  France  —  Their  Lack  of  Experience  —  A  New  Consti- 
tution —  Different  Views  of  its  Value 154 

Chapter  XX.    The  Antechamber  to  Success 

Punishment  of  the  Terrorists  —  Dangers  of  the  Thermidorians  —  Successes  of 
Republican  Arms  —  The  Treaty  of  Basel  —  Vendean  Disorders  Repressed  —  The 
"White  Terror" — Royalist  Activity — Friction  under  the  New  Constitution  — 
Arrival  of  Bonaparte  in  Paris — Paris  Society — Its  Power  —  The  People  Angry 

—  Resurgence  of  Jacobinism  —  Bonaparte's  Dejection  —  His  Relations  with 
Mme.  Permon  —  His  Magnanimity 162 

Chapter  XXI.  Bonaparte  the  General  of  the  Convention 

Disappointments  — Another  Furlough  —  Connection  with  Barras  —  Official  So- 
ciety in  Paris  —  Bonaparte  as  a  Beau  —  Condition  of  His  Family  — A  Political 
General— An  Opening  in  Turkey— Opportunities  in  Europe  —  Social  Advance- 
ment —  OfBcial  Degradation  —  Schemes  for  Restoration  —  Plans  of  the  Royalists 

—  The  Hostility  of  Paris  to  the  Convention  —  Bonaparte,  General  of  the  Con- 
vention Troops  —  His  Strategy 171 

Chapter  XXII.    The  Day  of  the  Paris  Sections 

The  "Warfare  at  St.  Roch  and  the  Pont  Royal  —  Order  Restored  —  Meaning  of 
the  Conflict  — Political  Dangers— Bonaparte's  Dilemma— His  True  Attitude  — 
Sudden  Wealth  — The  Directory  and  Their  General  —  Bonaparte  in  Love  — His 
Corsican  Temperament  —  His  Matrimonial  Adventures 181 

Chapter  XXHI.    A  Marriage  of  Inclination  and  Interest 

The  Taschers  and  Beauhamais  —Execution  of  Alexandre  Beauharnais  —  Adven- 
tures of  His  Widow  — Meeting  of  Napoleon  and  Josephine  — The  Latter's  Un- 
certamties  — Her  Character  and  Station  —  Passion  and  Convenience  —  The 
Bride's  Dowry- Bonaparte's  Philosophy  of  Life  — The  Ladder  to  Glory  189 


TABLE    OP    CONTENTS  ^iii 

ChAPTEB  XXrV.      EUEOPE  AND   THE   DiEECTOKY 

PAQB 

The  First  Coalition  —  England  and  Austria  —  The  Armies  of  the  Republic  —  The 
Treasury  of  the  Republic^ The  Directory  —  The  Abb6  Sieves  — Carnot  as  a 
Model  Citizen  —  His  Capacity  as  a  Military  Organizer — His  Personal  Char- 
acter—  His  Policy  —  France  at  the  Opening  of  1796 197 


Chapter  XXV.  Bonaparte  on  a  Geeat  Stage 

Bonaparte  and  the  Army  of  Italy  —  The  System  of  Pillage  —  The  General  as  a 
Despot  —  The  Republican  Armies  and  French  Polities  —  Italy  as  the  Focal 
Point — Condition  of  Italy  —  Bonaparte's  Sagacity  —  His  Plan  of  Action  —  His 
Army  and  Generals  —  Strength  of  the  Army  of  Italy  —  The  Napoleonic  Maxims 
of  Warfare  —  Advance  of  Military  Science  —  Bonaparte's  Achievements  — His 
Financial  Policy  —  Effects  of  his  Success 204 


Chapter  XXVT.     The  Conquest  of  Piedmont  and  the  Milanese 

The  Armies  of  Austria  and  Sardinia  —  Montenotte  and  Millesimo  —  Mondovi 
and  Cherasco — Consequences  of  the  Campaign  —  The  Plains  of  Lombardy  — 
The  Crossing  of  the  Po  —  Advance  toward  Milan  —  Lodi  —  Retreat  of  the  Aus- 
trians  —  Moral  Effects  of  Lodi 213 

Chapter  XXYII.    An  Insubordinate  Conqueror  and  Diplomatist 

Bonaparte's  Assertion  of  Independence  —  Helplessness  of  the  Directory — 
Threats  and  Proclamations  —  The  General  and  His  Officers  —  Bonaparte's  Com- 
prehensive Genius  —  The  Devotion  of  France  —  The  Position  of  the  Austrians  — 
Bonaparte's  Strategy  —  His  Conception  of  the  Problem  in  Italy  —  Justification 
of  His  Foresight  —  Modena,  Parma,  and  the  Papacy  —  The  French  Radicals 
and  the  Pope  —  Bonaparte's  Policy  —  His  Ambition 221 

Chapter  XXVin.    Mantua  and  Arcole 

The  Austrian  System  —  The  Austrian  Strategy  —  Castiglione  —  French  Gains 
—  Bassano  —  The  French  in  the  Tyrol  —  The  French  Defeated  in  Germany  — 
Bonaparte  and  Alvinczy — Austrian  Successes  —  Caldiero  —  First  Battle  of 
Arcole  —  Second  Battle  of  Arcole 231 

Chapter  XXIX.     Bonaparte's  Imperious  Spirit 

Bonaparte's  Transformation  —  Military  Genius  —  Powers  and  Principles  — 
Theory  and  Conduct  —  Political  Activity —  Purposes  for  Italy  —  Private  Corre- 
spondence—  Treatment  of  the  Italian  Powers  —  Antagonism  to  the  Directory — 
The  Task  before  Him 241 

Chapter  XXX.    Kivoli  and  the  Capitulation  of  Mantua 

Austria's  Strategic  Plan  —  Renewal  of  Hostilities  —  The  Austrians  at  Rivoli  and 
Nogara — Bonaparte's  Night  March  to  Rivoli  —  Monte  Baldo  and  the  Berner 
Klause  —  The  Battle  of  Rivoli  —  The  Battle  of  La  Favorita  —  Feats  of  the 
French  Army — Bonaparte's  Achievement  —  The  Fall  of  Mantua 250 


XIV 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Chapter  XXXI.    Humiliation  of  the  Papacy  and  of  Venice       ^aqe 

Rome  Threatened  —  Pius  VI.  Surrenders  —  The  Peace  of  Toleutino — Bona- 
parte and  the  Papacy  —  Designs  for  the  Orient  —  The  Policy  of  Austria  —  The 
Archduke  Charles  —  Bonaparte  Hampered  by  the  Directory — His  Treatment 
of  Venice  —  Condition  of  Venetia  —  The  Commonwealth  Warned 259 

Chapter  XXXII.    The  PRELiMrNAEiES  of  Leoben 

Austrian  Plans  for  the  Last  Italian  Campaign  —  The  Battle  on  the  Tagliamento 

—  Retreat  of  the  Archduke  Charles  —  Bonapai-te's  Proclamation  to  the  Carin- 
thians  —  Joubert  Withdraws  from  the  Tyrol — Bonaparte's  "Philosophical" 
Letter  —  His  Situation  at  Leoben  —  The  Negotiations  for  Peace  —  Character  of 
the  Treaty  —  Bonaparte's  Rude  Diplomacy  —  French  Successes  on  the  Rhine  — 
Plots  of  the  Directory  —  The  Uprising  of  Venetia  —  War  with  Venice     ....    266 

Chapter  XXXIII.    The  Fall  of  Venice 

Feebleness  of  the  Venetian  Oligarchy  —  Its  Overthrow  —  Bonaparte's  Duplicity 

—  Letters  of  Opposite  Purport  —  Montebello  —  The  Republican  Court — Eng- 
land's Proposition  for  Peace  —  Plans  of  the  Directory  —  General  Clarke's  Diplo- 
matic Career — Conduct  of  Mme.  Bonaparte  —  Bonaparte's  Jealous  Tenderness 

—  His  Wife's  Social  Conquests 275 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Volume  I 

Meissonter's  "  1814  " Frontispiece 

TACtSQ  PAGE 

House  m  the  Place  Letizia,   Ajaccio,   Corsica,  in  which  Napoleon 

Bonaparte  was  born 1 

Room  m  which  Napoleon  was  born 8 

The  Infant  Napoleon  in  the  Room  op  his  Birth 12 

Carlo  Buonaparte 17 

Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  1785,  aged  sixteen 20 

L^TiTiA  Eamolino 24 

Bonaparte,  the  Nouveau,  at  the  School  op  Brienne 28 

Bonaparte  attacking  Snow  Forts  at  the  School  of  Brienne 33 

Bonaparte  at  the  Military  School,  Paris,  1784 36 

Napoleon  in  Society  at  Valence,  1785 40 

Napoleon  Bonaparte 43 

Bonaparte   at   Auxonne,   1788 44 

Mlle.  du  Colombier 47 

Marie-Anne-Elisa  Bonaparte 49 

In  the  Garden  of  the  Tuileries 52 

Napoleon  on  his  Way  to  Corsica  with  his  Sister  Elisa 56 

Joseph  Bonaparte 60 

Pascal  Paoli 65 

Landing  of  Paoli  on  Corsican  Soil 68 

Target  Practice  (Dieppe,  1795) 70 

The  Entrance  to  the  Grotto  on  the  Estate  op  Milleli 72 

Napoleon  Bonaparte   77 

The  Lodging  op  Bonaparte  at  Valence -81 

Bonaparte  during  his  later  Service  at  Valence 84 

Bonaparte  pawning  his  Watch 88 

Bonaparte  addressing  a  Jacobin  Club  in  Corsica 93 

Bonaparte  in  1792  as  a  Frequenter  of  a  six-sous  Restaurant  in  Paris  ...  96 

The  Tou^g  Napoleon 101 

La  Causerie  —  Life  in  Paris  in  1793 104 

XV 


_.^  LIST  OP  ILLUSTRATIONS 

i-Vl  FACING  PAGE 

jEANNE-MARIE-lGNACE-TH^RilSE  DE   CaBAREUS 108 

The  Battle  op  Jemmapes,  near  Mons,  Belgtom,  November  6,  1792 114 

The  Drltumeks  op  the  Republic 116 

Lazare-Nicolas-Marguerite  Carnot 121 

The  Supper  op  Beaucaire 127 

The  Conquest  op   Holland 128 

Bonaparte  explaining  his  Plan  for  the  Taking  of  Toulon,  1793 134 

The  Harbor  op  Toulon,  from  the  Heights  of  Six-fours 137 

The  Battle  op  Quiberon 140 

Bonaparte,  Tubreau,  and  Volney  at  Nice  in  1793 144 

Bonaparte  under  Arrest,  August,  1794 151 

Maeie-Julie  Clary 157 

The  Siege  op  Pavla 161 

Louis-Marie  de  LAREVELLiiiRE-LfePEAUX 165 

Felice  Pasquale  Bacciocchi 169 

Marie-Josephe-Rose  Tascher  de  la  Pagerie,  called  Josephine,  Empress 

OP  THE  French 172 

Napoleon  Bonaparte 176 

The  Thirteenth  Vendemiaire,  October  5,  1795 180 

Bonaparte  closing  the  Pantheon  Club 184 

The  Civil  Marriage  op  Napoleon  and  Josephine 193 

Bonaparte  on  the  Road  prom  Paris  to  Nice 196 

Capture  op  a  Dutch  Fleet  by  Hussars  op  the  French  Republic, 

January,  1795 200 

Rampon's  Soldiers  taking  the  Oath  never  to  Surrender 209 

Marshal  Andr]S  Mass^na 212 

Bonaparte  aiming  the  Cannon  at  Lodi 216 

Bonaparte,  surprised  at  Lonato  with  his  Staff  and  1200  Men,  compels 

4000  Austrians  to  surrender 219 

Napoleon  Bonaparte 221 

Bonaparte  in  Italy 225 

Bonaparte  in  Italy,  1796 229 

Bonaparte  at  Arcole 236 

Bonaparte  at  Arcole 238 

A  Grenadier 245 

The  Battle  op  Rivoli,  January  14,  1797 253 

Marshal  Jean-Matthieu-Philibert,  Count  Sbrubieb 256 

Bulletin  of  Victory  prom  the  Armies  op  Italy,  1797 260 

Archduke  Charles  op  Austria 265 

Francis  I.,  Emperor  of  Austria 268 

Capture  op  the  Pass  op  Tarvis 272 

The  French  before  the  Ducal  Palace,  Venice 276 

Eugenie-Bernardine-Desiree  Clary 280 


DaAWl>0   MADE   I'WB   THE   CE.NXLBY   CO. 


HOUSE   IN  THE   PLACE   LETIZIA,  AJACCIO,  CORSICA,  IN  WHICH 
NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  WAS    BORN 


FROM    THE    DRAWING    BY    ERIC    PAPE 

The  bouse  is  now  owned  by  E.\-Empress  Eugenie 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE 


INTRODUCTION 

The  Revolutionaby  Epoch  m  Europe — Corsica  as  a  Center  of 
Interest — Its  Geography — The  People  and  their  Rulers — Sam- 
piero — Paoli — His  Success  as  a  Liberator — His  Plan  for  Alli- 
ance WITH  France — The  Policy  of  Choiseul — Paoli's  Reputa- 
tion— Napoleon's  Account  of  Corsica  and  of  Paoli — Rousseau 
AND  Corsica. 

NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  was  the  representative  man  of  the 
epoch  which  ushered  in  the  nineteenth  century.  That  period  was 
the  most  tumultuous  and  yet  the  most  fruitful  in  the  world's  history. 
But  the  progress  made  in  it  was  not  altogether  direct ;  rather  was  it  like 
the  advance  of  a  traveler  whirled  through  the  spiral  tunnels  of  the  St. 
Gotthard.  Flying  from  the  inclemency  of  the  north,  he  is  carried  by  the 
ponderous  train  due  southward  into  the  opening.  After  a  time  of  dark- 
ness he  emerges  into  the  open  air.  But  at  first  sight  the  goal  is  no  nearer; 
the  direction  is  perhaps  reversed,  the  skies  are  more  forbidding,  the  chill 
is  more  intense.  Only  after  successive  ventures  of  the  same  kind  is  the 
climax  reached,  the  summit  passed,  and  the  vision  of  sunny  plains  opened 
to  view.  Such  experiences  are  more  common  to  the  race  than  to  the  in- 
dividual ;  the  muse  of  history  must  note  and  record  them  with  equa- 
nimity, with  a  buoyancy  and  hopefulness  bom  of  large  knowledge. 
The  movement  of  civihzation  in  Europe  during  the  latter  portion  of 
the  eighteenth  century  was  onward  and  upward,  but  it  was  at  times 
not  only  laborious  and  devious,  but  fruitless  in  immediate  results.     We 


2  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 

must  study  the  age  and  the  people  of  any  great  man  if  we  sincerely 
desire  the  tinith  regarding  his  strength  and  weakness,  his  purposes  and 
inborn  tendencies,  his  failures  and  successes,  the  temporary  incidents 
and  the  lasting,  consti-uctive,  meritorious  achievements  of  his  career; 
and  this  is  certainly  far  more  true  of  Napoleon  than  of  any  other  heroic 
personage.  An  affectionate  awe  has  sometimes  lifted  him  to  heaven ; 
a  spiteful  hate  has  often  hurled  him  down  to  hell.  Every  nation,  every 
party,  faction,  and  cabal  among  his  own  and  other  peoples,  has  judged 
him  from  its  own  standpoint  of  self-interest  and  self-justification. 
Whatever  chance  there  may  be  of  reading  the  secrets  of  his  life  lies 
rather  in  a  just  considei'ation  of  the  man  in  relation  to  his  times,  about 
which  much  is  known,  than  in  an  attempt  at  the  psychological- dissec- 
tion of  an  enigmatical  nature,  about  which  little  is  known,  in  spite  of 
the  fullness  of  our  information.  The  abundant  facts  of  his  career  are 
not  facts  at  all  unless  considered  in  the  hght  not  only  of  a  great  na- 
tional life,  but  of  a  continental  movement  which  was  inclusive  of  all 
civilization  in  its  day. 

There  had  been  in  Corsica  since  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury an  obscure  family  by  the  name  of  Buonaparte.  No  land  and  no 
family  could  to  all  outward  appearance  be  fm-ther  aside  from  the  main 
channel  of  European  history  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Yet  that  iso- 
lated land  and  that  unknown  family  were  not  merely  to  be  drawn  into 
the  movement :  they  were  to  illustrate  its  most  characteristic  phases. 
Rousseau  endeavored,  though  unsuccessfully,  to  forecast  a  great  des- 
tiny for  Corsica,  declaring  that  it  was  the  only  European  land  capable 
of  movement,  of  law-making,  of  peaceful  renovation.  It  was  smaU  and 
remote,  but  it  came  near  to  being  an  actual  exemphfication  of  his  favor- 
ite and  fimdamental  dogma  concerning  man  in  a  state  of  nature,  of  order 
as  arising  from  conflict,  of  government  as  resting  on  general  consent 
and  mutual  agreement  among  the  governed.  Toward  Corsica,  there- 
fore, the  eyes  of  all  Europe  had  long  been  directed.  There,  more  than 
elsewhere,  the  setting  of  the  world-dfama  seemed  complete  in  minia- 
ture, and,  in  the  closing  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  centmy,  the  action 
was  rapidly  imfolding  a  plot  of  universal  interest. 

A  lofty  mountain-ridge  divides  the  island  into  eastern  and  western 
districts.  The  former  is  gentler  in  its  slopes,  and  more  fertile.  Look- 
ing, as  it  does,  toward  Italy,  it  was  during  the  middle  ages  closely 
bound  in  intercourse  with  that  peninsula ;  richer  in  its  resoiu-ces  than 


INTRODUCTION  3 

the  other  part,  it  was  more  open  to  outside  influences,  and  for  this 
reason  freer  in  its  institutions.  The  rugged  western  division  had  come 
more  completely  under  the  yoke  of  feudalism,  having  close  affinity  in 
sympathy,  and  some  relation  in  blood,  with  the  Greek,  Roman,  Sara- 
cenic, and  Teutonic  race-elements  in  France  and  Spain.  The  com- 
munal administration  of  the  eastern  slope,  however,  prevailed  eventu- 
ally in  the  western  as  well,  and  the  differences  of  origin,  wealth,  and 
occupation,  though  at  times  the  occasion  of  intestine  discord,  were  as 
nothing  compared  with  the  common  characteristics  which  knit  the 
population  of  the  entire  island  into  one  national  organization,  as  much 
a  unit  as  their  insular  tenitory. 

The  people  of  this  small  commonwealth  were  in  the  main  of  Itahan 
blood.  Some  shght  connection  with  the  motherland  they  still  main- 
tained in  the  relations  of  commerce,  and  by  the  education  of  then'  pro- 
fessional men  at  Itahan  schools.  While  a  small  minority  supported 
themselves  as  tradesmen  or  seafarers,  the  mass  of  the  population  was 
dependent  for  a  hvehhood  upon  agriculture.  As  a  nation  they  had 
long  ceased  to  foUow  the  coiu'se  of  general  European  development. 
They  had  been  successively  the  subjects  of  Greece,  Rome,  and  the 
Califate,  of  the  German-Roman  emperors,  and  of  the  repubhc  of  Pisa. 
Their  latest  ruler  was  Genoa,  which  had  now  degenerated  into  an 
imtrustworthy  oligarchy.  United  to  that  state  originally  by  terms 
which  gave  the  island  a  "  speaker  "  or  advocate  in  the  Genoese  senate, 
and  recognized  the  most  cherished  habits  of  a  hardy,  natural-minded, 
and  primitive  people,  they  had  little  by  httle  been  left  a  prey  to  their 
own  faults  in  order  that  their  unworthy  mistress  might  plead  their  dis- 

j  orders  as  an  excuse  for  her  tyranny.     Agiicultm^e  languished,  and  the 

I  minute  subdivision  of  arable  land  finally  rendered  its  tillage  profitless. 

"  Among  a  people  who  are  isolated  not  only  as  islanders,  but  also  as 

mountaineers,  old  institutions  are  particularly  tenacious  of  hfe :  that  of 
the  vendetta,  or  blood  revenge,  with  its  accompanying  clanship,  never 
disappeared  from  Corsica.  In  the  centuries  of  Genoese  rule  the  carry- 
ing of  arms  was  winked  at,  quarrels  became  rife,  and  often  family  con- 

I  federations,  embracing  a  considerable  part  of  the  country,  were  arrayed 

one  against  the  other  in  lawless  violence.     The  feudal  nobility,  few  in 

j  number,  were  unrecognized,  and  failed  to  cultivate  the  industrial  arts 

in  the  security  of  costly  strongholds  as  their  class  did  elsewhere,  while 
the  fau-est  portions  of  land  not  held  by  them  were  gradually  absorbed 


A  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE 

by  the  monasteries,  which  Genoa  favored  as  hkely  to  render  easier 
the  government  of  a  tui-bulent  people.  The  human  animal,  however, 
throve.  Of  medimn  stature  and  powerful  mold,  with  black  hair  and 
piercing  eyes,  with  well-formed,  agile,  and  sinewy  limbs,  endowed  with 
courao-e  and  other  primitive  virtues,  the  Corsican  was  everywhere 
sou«-ht  as  a  soldier,  and  could  be  found  in  aU  the  armies  of  the  south- 
ern Continental  states. 

In  their  periodic  struggles  against  Genoese  encroachments  and 
tyranny,  the  Corsicans  had  produced  a  line  of  national  heroes.  Sam- 
piero,  one  of  these,  had  in  the  sixteenth  century  incorporated  Corsica 
for  a  brief  horn*  with  the  dominions  of  the  French  crown,  and  was 
regarded  as  the  typical  Corsican.  Dark,  warhke,  and  revengeful,  he 
had  displayed  a  keen  inteUect  and  fine  judgment.  Simple  in  his  dress 
and  habits,  imtainted  by  the  luxury  then  prevalent  in  the  courts  of 
Florence  and  Paris,  at  both  of  which  he  resided  for  considerable 
periods,  he  could  kill  his  wife  without  a  shudder  when  she  put  her- 
seK  and  child  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies  to  betray  him.  Hospitable 
and  generous,  but  untamed  and  terrible ;  brusk,  dictatorial,  and  with- 
out consideration  or  compassion ;  the  offspring  of  his  times  and  his 
people,  he  stands  the  embodiment  of  primeval  energy,  physical  and 
mental. 

But  the  greatest  of  these  heroes  was  also  the  last — Pascal  Paoh. 
Fitted  for  his  task  by  birth,  by  capacity,  by  superior  training,  this 
youth  was  in  1755  made  captain-general  of  the  island,  a  virtual  dicta- 
tor in  his  twenty-ninth  year.  His  success  was  as  remarkable  as  his 
measures  were  wise.  Elections  were  regulated  so  that  strong  organiza- 
tion was  introduced  into  the  loose  democratic  institutions  which  had 
hitherto  prevented  sufficient  unity  of  action  in  troubled  times.  An 
army  was  created  from  the  straggling  bands  of  volunteers,  and  brig- 
andage was  suppressed.  Wise  laws  were  enacted  and  enforced — among 
them  one  which  made  the  blood-avenger  a  murderer,  instead  of  a  hero 
as  he  had  been.  Moreover,  the  foundations  of  a  university  were  laid 
in  the  town  of  Corte,  which  was  the  hearthstone  of  the  liberals  because 
it  was  the  natural  capital  of  the  west  slope,  connected  by  difficult  and 
defensible  paths  with  every  cape  and  bay  and  intervale  of  the  rocky 
and  broken  coast.  The  Genoese  were  gradually  driven  from  the  inte- 
rior, and  finally  they  occupied  but  thi^ee  harbor  towns. 

Through  skilful  diplomacy  Paoh  created  a  temporary  breach  be- 


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INTRODUCTION  5 

tween  Ms  oppressors  and  the  Vatican,  whicli,  though  soon  healed,  nev- 
ertheless enabled  him  to  recover  important  domains  for  the  state,  and 
prevented  the  Roman  hierarchy  from  using  its  enormous  influence  over 
the  superstitious  peasantry  utterly  to  crush  the  movement  for  their 
emancipation.  His  extreme  and  enlightened  hberahsm  is  admirably 
shown  by  his  invitation  to  the  Jews,  with  their  industry  and  steady 
habits,  to  settle  in  Corsica,  and  to  hve  there  in  the  fuUest  enjoyment  of 
civil  rights,  according  to  the  traditions  of  their  faith  and  the  precepts 
of  their  law.  "  Liberty,"  he  said,  "  knows  no  creed.  Let  us  leave  such 
distinctions  to  the  Inquisition."  Commerce,  under  these  influences, 
began  to  thrive.  New  harbors  were  made  and  fortified,  while  the 
equipment  of  a  few  gunboats  for  their  defense  marked  the  small  be- 
ginnings of  a  fleet.  The  haughty  men  of  Corsica,  changing  their  very 
nature  for  a  season,  began  to  labor  with  then-  hands  by  the  side  of 
their  wives  and  hired  assistants ;  to  agriculture,  industry,  and  the  arts 
was  given  an  impulse  which  promised  to  be  lasting. 

The  rule  of  Paoh  was  not  entirely  without  disturbance.  From  time 
to  time  there  occurred  rebelhoiis  outbreaks  of  petty  factions  hke  that 
headed  by  Matra,  a  disappointed  rival.  But  they  were  on  the  whole  of 
httle  importance.  Down  to  1765  the  advances  of  the  nationahsts  were 
steady,  their  battles  being  won  against  enormous  odds  by  the  force  of 
their  warhke  nature,  which  sought  honor  above  all  things,  and  could, 
in  the  words  of  a  medieval  chronicle,  "endure  without  a  munnur 
watchings  and  pains,  hunger  and  cold,  in  its  pursuit — which  could 
even  face  death  without  a  pang."  Finally  it  became  necessary,  as  the 
result  of  imparalleled  success  in  domestic  affairs,  that  a  foreign  pohcy 
should  be  foi-mulated.  PaoK's  idea  was  an  offensive  and  defensive  aUi- 
ance  with  France  on  terms  recognizing  the  independence  of  Corsica, 
securing  an  exclusive  commercial  reciprocity  between  them,  and  prom- 
ising mihtary  service  with  an  annual  tribute  from  the  island.  This 
idea  of  France  as  a  protector  without  administrative  power  was  held 
by  the  majority  of  patriots. 

But  Choiseul,  the  minister  of  foreign  affairs  under  Louis  XV., 
would  entertain  no  such  visionary  plan.  It  was  clear  to  every  one  that 
the  island  coidd  no  longer  be  held  by  its  old  masters.  He  had  found 
a  facile  instrument  for  the  measures  necessary  to  his  contemplated 
seizure  of  it  in  the  son  of  a  Corsican  refugee,  that  later  notorious  But- 
tafuoco,  who,  carrying  water  on  both  shoulders,  had  ingratiated  him- 


g  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE 

self  with  his  father's  old  fiiends,  while  at  the  same  time  he  had  for 
years  been  successful  as  a  French  official.  Corsica  was  to  he  seized  by 
France  as  a  sop  to  the  national  pride,  a  sUght  compensation  for  the 
loss  of  Canada,  and  he  was  willing  to  be  the  agent.  On  August  sixth, 
17G4,  was  signed  a  provisional  agreement  between  Genoa  and  France 
by  which  the  former  was  to  cede  for  fom-  years  all  her  rights  of  sover- 
eignty, and  the  few  places  she  still  held  in  the  island,  in  rettuii  for  the 
latter's  intervention. 

By  this  time  the  renown  of  Paoh  had  filled  all  Europe.  As  a  states- 
man he  had  skilfvdly  used  the  European  entanglements  both  of  the 
Bom*bon-Hapsbm-g  aDiance  made  in  1756,  and  of  the  alliances  conse- 
quent to  the  Seven  Years'  War,  for  whatever  possible  advantage  might 
be  secured  to  his  people  and  their  cause.  As  a  general  he  had  found 
profit  in  defeat,  and  had  organized  his  httle  forces  to  the  highest  possi- 
ble efficiency,  displaying  prudence,  fortitiide,  and  capacity.  His  per- 
sonal character  was  blameless,  and  could  be  fearlessly  set  up  as  a  model. 
He  was  a  convincing  orator  and  a  wise  legislator.  Full  of  sympathy 
for  his  backward  compatriots,  he  knew  their  weaknesses,  and  could 
avoid  the  consequences,  while  he  recognized  at  the  same  time  their 
viiiiues,  and  made  the  fullest  use  of  them.  Above  aU,  he  had  the  wide 
homon  of  a  philosopher,  ujiderstanding  fully  the  proportions  and  rela- 
tions to  each  other  of  epochs  and  peoples,  not  striving  to  uplift  Corsica 
merely  in  her  own  interest,  but  seeking  to  find  in  her  regeneration  a 
leverage  to  raise  the  world  to  higher  things.  So  gracious,  so  influential, 
so  far-seeing,  so  aU-embracing  was  his  nature,  that  Voltaire  called  him 
"  the  lawgiver  and  the  glory  of  his  people,"  while  Frederick  the  Great 
dedicated  to  him  a  dagger  with  the  inscription,  "  Libertas,  Patria." 
The  shadows  in  his  character  were  that  he  was  imperious  and  arbi- 
trary; so  overmastering  that  he  trained  the  Corsicans  to  seek  guidance 
and  protection,  thus  preventing  them  from  acqumng  either  personal 
independence  or  self-reUance.  Awaiting  at  every  step  an  impulse  from 
their  adored  leader,  growing  timid  in  the  moment  when  decision  was 
imperative,  they  did  not  prove  equal  to  their  task.  Without  his  people 
Paoh  was  still  a  philosopher;  without  him  they  became  in  succeeding 
years  a  byword,  and  fell  supinely  into  the  arms  of  a  less  noble  subjec- 
tion. In  this  regard  the  comparison  between  him  and  Washington, 
so  often  instituted,  utterly  breaks  down. 

"  Corsica,"  wi-ote  in  1790  a  youth  destined  to  lend  even  greater  in- 


INTRODUCTION  7 

terest  than  Paoli  to  that  name — "  Corsica  has  been  a  prey  to  the  ambi- 
tion of  her  neighbors,  the  victim  of  their  pohtics  and  of  her  own 
wilfulness.  .  .  .  We  have  seen  her  take  up  arms,  shake  the  atrocious 
power  of  Genoa,  recover  her  independence,  hve  happily  for  an  instant; 
but  then,  pm-sued  by  an  irresistible  fatahty,  fall  again  into  intolerable 
disgi-ace.  For  twenty-four  centuries  these  are  the  scenes  which  recur 
again  and  again;  the  same  changes,  the  same  misfortune,  but  also  the 
same  courage,  the  same  resolution,  the  same  boldness.  ...  If  she 
trembled  for  an  instant  before  the  feudal  hydi'a,  it  was  only  long  enough 
to  recognize  and  destroy  it.  If,  led  by  a  natural  feeling,  she  kissed, 
like  a  slave,  the  chains  of  Rome,  she  was  not  long  in  breaking  them. 
If,  finally,  she  bowed  her  head  before  the  Ligurian  aristocracy,  if  iiTe- 
sistible  forces  kept  her  twenty  years  in  the  despotic  grasp  of  Versailles, 
forty  years  of  mad  warfare  astonished  Europe,  and  confounded  her 
enemies." 

The  same  pen  wrote  of  Paoli  that  by  following  traditional  lines  he 
had  not  only  shown  in  the  constitution  he  framed  for  Corsica  a  his- 
toric intuition,  but  also  had  found  "  m  his  unparalleled  activity,  in  his 
warm,  persuasive  eloquence,  in  his  adroit  and  far-seeing  genius,"  a 
means  to  guarantee  it  against  the  attacks  of  wicked  foes. 

Such  was  the  country  in  whose  fortunes  the  "  age  of  enhghten- 
ment "  was  so  interested.  Montesqiueu  had  used  its  history  to  illustrate 
the  loss  and  recovery  of  privilege  and  rights;  Rousseau  had  thought  the 
httle  isle  would  one  day  fill  all  Europe  with  amazement.  When  the 
latter  was  driven  into  exile  for  his  utterances,  and  before  his  flight  to 
England,  Paoh  offered  him  a  refuge.  Buttafuoco,  who  represented  the 
opinion  that  Corsica  for  its  own  good  must  be  incoi-porated  with  France, 
and  not  merely  come  under  her  protection,  had  a  few  months  previously 
also  invited  the  Genevan  pi'ophet  to  visit  the  island,  and  outline  a  con- 
stitution for  its  people.  But  the  snare  was  spread  in  vain.  In  the  let- 
ter which  with  pohshed  phrase  declined  the  task,  on  the  gi'ound  of  its 
writer's  iU-health,  stood  the  words :  "  I  believe  that  under  then-  present 
leader  the  Corsicans  have  nothing  to  fear  from  Genoa.  I  beheve,  more- 
over, that  they  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  troops  which  France  is 
said  to  be  transporting  to  their  shores.  What  confiims  me  in  this  feel- 
ing is  that,  in  spite  of  the  movement,  so  good  a  patriot  as  you  seem  to  be 
continues  in  the  service  of  the  country  which  sends  them."  Paoh  was 
of  the  same  opinion,  and  remained  so  until  his  rude  awakening  in  1768. 


CHAPTER  I 

the  bonapabtes  in  corsica 

The  French  Occupy  Corsica  —  Paoli  Deceived  —  Conquest  of  Cor- 
sica BY  France  —  English  Intervention  Vain  —  Paoli  in  England 
—  Introduction  of  the  French  Administrative  System  —  Paoli's 
Policy  —  Origin  of  the  Bonapartes  —  Carlo  Maria  di  Buona- 
parte— Maria  Letizia  Ramolino  —  Their  Marriage  and  Natural- 
ization AS  French  Subjects  —  Their  Fortunes  —  Their  Children. 

Chap.  I  T  MHE  preliminary  occupation  of  Corsica  by  tho  French  was  osten- 
1764-72  JL  sibly  formal.  The  process  was  contiaued,  however,  until  the 
formahty  became  a  reahty,  untO  the  fortifications  of  the  seaport  towns 
ceded  by  Genoa  were  filled  with  troops.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  the 
text  of  the  convention  between  the  two  powers  was  commtmicated  to 
PaoU.  Choiseul  explained  through  his  agent  that  by  its  first  section 
the  King  guaranteed  the  safety  and  hberty  of  the  Corsican  nation,  but, 
no  doubt,  he  forgot  to  explain  the  double  dealing  in  the  second  section 
whereby  in  the  Italian  form  the  Corsicans  were  in  retiim  to  take  "  aU 
right  and  proper  measures  dictated  by  their  sense  of  justice  and  natural 
moderation  to  seciire  the  glory  and  interest  of  the  republic  of  Genoa," 
wMle  in  the  French  form  they  were  "to  yield  to  the  Genoese  aU 
*  they '  thought  necessary  to  the  glory  and  interests  of  their  repubhc." 
Who  were  the  "they'"? — the  Corsicans  or  the  Genoese?  Paoh's  eye 
was  fixed  on  the  acknowledgment  of  Corsican  independence;  he  was 
hoodwinked  completely  as  to  the  treachery  in  this  second  section,  the 
meaning  of  which,  according  to  diplomatic  usage,  was  settled  by  the 
intei-pretation  the  language  employed  for  one  form  put  upon  that  in 
which  the  other  was  written.  Combining  the  two  translations,  Itahan 
and  French,  of  the  second  section,  and  interpreting  one  by  the  other, 
the  Genoese  were  still  the  arbiters  of  Corsican  conduct  and  the  prom- 
ise of  Uberty  contained  in  the  first  section  was  worthless. 


O 
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4 


1767]  THE    BONAPARTES    IN    CORSICA  , 

Fom-  years  passed :  apparently  they  were  uneventful,  but  in  reality  chap.i 
Choisenl  made  good  use  of  his  time.  Thi'ough  Buttafuoco  he  was  in  1764-72 
regular  communication  with  that  minority  among  the  Corsicans  which 
desired  incorporation.  By  the  sskilful  manipulation  of  private  funds, 
and  the  unstinted  use  of  money,  this  minority  was  before  long  turned 
into  a  majority.  Toward  the  close  of  1767  Choiseul  began  to  show 
his  hand  by  demanding  absolute  possession  for  France  of  at  least  two 
strong  towns.  Paoli  rephed  that  the  demand  was  unexpected,  and 
required  consideration  by  the  people ;  the  answer  was  that  the  King  of 
France  could  not  be  expected  to  mingle  in  Corsican  affau's  without 
some  advantage  for  himself.  To  gain  time  Paoh  chose  Buttafuoco  as 
his  plenipotentiary,  despatched  him  to  Versailles,  and  thus  fell  into  the 
very  trap  so  carefully  set  for  him  by  his  opponent.  He  consented  as  a 
compromise  that  Corsica  should  join  the  Bourbon-Hapsburg  league. 
More  he  could  not  grant  for  love  of  his  wild,  free  Corsicans,  and  he 
cherished  the  secret  conviction  that,  Genoa  being  no  longer  able  to 
assert  her  sovereignty,  France  would  never  allow  another  power  to 
intervene,  and  so,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  might  accept  this  solution. 

But  the  great  French  minister  was  a  master  of  diplomacy  and 
would  not  yield.  In  his  designs  upon  Corsica  he  had  Httle  to  fear 
from  European  opposition.  He  knew  how  hampered  England  was  by 
the  strength  of  parhamentary  opposition,  and  the  unrest  of  her  Ameri- 
can colonies.  The  Sardinian  monarchy  was  still  weak,  and  quailed 
under  the  jealous  eyes  of  her  strong  enemies.  Austria  could  not  act 
without  breaking  the  league  so  essential  to  her  welfare,  while  the 
Bourbon  courts  of  Spain  and  Naples  would  regard  the  family  aggi-an- 
dizement  with  complacency.  Moreover,  something  must  be  done  to 
save  the  prestige  of  France :  her  American  colonial  empire  was  lost ; 
Catherine's  brilliant  policy,  and  the  subsequent  victories  of  Russia  in 
the  Orient,  were  threatening  what  remained  of  French  influence  in 
that  quarter.  Here  was  a  propitious  moment  to  emulate  once  more 
the  Enghsh :  to  seize  a  station  on  the  Indian  highroad  as  valuable  as 
Gibraltar  or  Port  Mahon,  and  to  raise  again  high  hopes  of  recovering, 
if  not  the  colonial  supremacy  among  nations,  at  least  that  equahty 
which  the  Seven  Years'  War  had  destroyed.  Without  loss  of  time, 
therefore,  the  negotiations  were  ended,  and  Buttafuoco  was  dismissed. 
On  May  fifteenth,  1768,  the  price  to  be  paid  having  been  fixed,  a  de- 
finitive treaty  with  Genoa  was  signed  whereby  she  yielded  the  exer- 


10 


LIFE   OF   NAPOLEON   BONAPARTE  [1768-69 


Chap.  I     cise  of  Sovereignty  to  France,  and  Corsica  passed  finally  from  her 
nolii      hands.     Paoh    appealed  to   the  gi-eat  powers  against  this  arbitrary 
transfer,  but  in  vain. 

The  campaign  of  subjugation  opened  at  once,  Buttafuoco,  with  a 
few  other  Corsicans,  taking  service  against  his  kinsfolk.  .  The  soldiers 
of  the  Royal  Corsican  regiment,  which  was  in  the  French  service,  and 
which  had  been  formed  under  his  father's  influence,  flatly  refused  to 
fight  then*  brethren.  The  French  troops  already  in  the  island  were  at 
once  reinforced,  but  dming  the  first  year  of  the  final  conflict  the  ad- 
vantage was  all  with  the  patriots ;  indeed,  there  was  one  substantial 
victory  on  October  seventh,  1768,  that  of  Borgo,  which  caused  dismay 
at  Versailles.  Once  more  Paoli  hoped  for  intei*vention,  especially  that 
of  England,  whose  hberal  feeling  would  coincide  with  his  interest  in 
keeping  Corsica  from  France.  Money  and  arms  were  sent  from  Great 
Britain,  but  that  was  all.  This  conduct  of  the  British  ministiy  was 
afterward  recalled  by  France  as  a  precedent  for  rendering  aid  to  the 
Americans  in  then*  uprising  against  England. 

The  following  spring  an  army  of  no  less  than  twenty  thousand  men 
was  despatched  from  France  to  make  short  and  thorough  work  of  the 
conquest.  The  previous  year  of  bloody  and  embittered  conihct  had 
gone  far  to  disorganize  the  patriot  army.  It  was  only  with  the  ut- 
most difficulty  that  the  little  bands  of  mountain  villagers  could  be 
tempted  away  from  the  ever  more  necessary  defense  of  then'  homes 
and  fii'esides.  Yet  in  spite  of  disintegration  before  such  overwhelm- 
ing odds,  and  though  in  want  both  of  the  simplest  munition  and 
of  the  very  necessities  of  life,  the  forces  of  Paoh  continued  a  fierce  and 
heroic  resistance.  It  was  only  after  months  of  devastating,  heart- 
rending, hopeless  warfare,  that  their  leader,  utterly  routed  in  the 
affau-  known  as  the  battle  of  Ponte-Nuovo,  finally  gave  up  the  des- 
perate cause.  Exhausted,  and  without  resources,  he  would  have  been 
an  easy  prey  to  the  French ;  but  they  were  too  wise  to  take  him 
prisoner.  On  Jime  thirteenth,  1769,  by  theii'  connivance  he  escaped, 
with  three  hundred  and  forty  of  his  most  devoted  supporters,  on 
two  Enghsh  vessels,  to  the  mamland.  His  goal  was  England.  The 
journey  was  a  long,  triumphant  procession  from  Leghorn  through 
Gei-many  and  Holland;  the  honors  showered  on  him  by  the  hberals 
in  the  towns  through  which  he  passed  were  such  as  are  generally 
paid  to  victorj',  not  to  defeat.     Kindly  received  and  entertaiaed,  he 


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Corte,  the  highland  capital,  to  the  lowland  towns  of  Bastia  and  Ajac- 
cio.  The  primeval  feud  of  highlanders  and  lowlanders  was  thus  re- 
kindled, and  in  the  subsequent  agitations  the  patriots  won  over  by 
France  either  lost  influence  with  then'  followers,  or  ceased  to  sup- 
port the  government.  Old  animosities  were  everywhere  revived  and 
strengthened,  imtU  finally  the  flames  bm'st  forth  in  open  rebellion. 
They  were,  of  course,  suppressed,  but  the  work  was  done  with  a  savage 
thoroughness  the  memory  of  which  long  survived  to  prevent  the  for- 
mation in  the  island  of  a  natm-al  sentiment  friendly  to  the  French. 
Those  who  professed  such  a  feeling  were  held  in  no  great  esteem. 

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heroic  resistance.  It  was  only  after  months  of  devastating,  heart- 
rending, hopeless  warfare,  that  their  leader,  utterly  routed  in  the 
affau-  known  as  the  hattle  of  Ponte-Nuovo,  finally  gave  up  the  des- 
perate cause.  Exhausted,  and  without  resources,  he  would  have  been 
an  easy  prey  to  the  French;  but  they  were  too  wise  to  take  him 
prisoner.  On  June  tbirteenth,  1769,  by  their  connivance  he  escaped, 
with  three  hundred  and  forty  of  his  most  devoted  supporters,  on 
two  Enghsh  vessels,  to  the  mainland.  His  goal  was  England.  The 
journey  was  a  long,  triumphant  procession  from  Leghorn  through 
Gennany  and  Hohand;  the  honors  showered  on  bim  by  the  hberals 
in  the  towns  through  wbich  he  passed  were  such  as  are  generally 
paid  to  victory,  not  to  defeat.     Kindly  received  and  entertained,  he 


1770]  THE    BONAPARTES    IN    CORSICA 


11 


lived  for  the  next  thirty  years  in  London,  the  recipient  from  the     Chap.i 
government  of  twelve  hundi'ed  pounds  a  year  as  a  pension.  i7W^72 

The  year  1770  saw  the  King  of  France  apparently  in  peaceful  pos- 
session of  that  Corsican  sovereignty  which  he  claimed  to  have  bouglit 
from  Genoa.  His  administration  was  soon  and  easily  inaugui'ated,  and 
there  was  nowhere  any  interference  from  foreign  powers.  Philan- 
thropic England  had  provided  for  Paoh,  but  would  do  no  more,  for  she 
was  busy  at  home  with  a  transfoi-mation  of  her  parties.  The  old 
Whig  party  was  disintegrating ;  the  new  Toryism  was  steadily  assert- 
ing itself  in  the  passage  of  contemptuous  measm-es  for  oppressing  the 
American  colonies.  She  was,  moreover,  soon  to  be  so  absorbed  in  her 
great  struggle  on  both  sides  of  the  globe  that  interest  in  Corsica  and 
the  MediteiTanean  must  remain  for  a  long  time  in  abeyance. 

But  the  estabhshment  of  a  French  administration  in  the  King's  new 
acquisition  did  not  proceed  smoothly.  The  party  favorable  to  incor- 
poration had  grown,  and,  in  the  rush  to  side  with  success,  it  now  prob- 
ably far  outnumbered  the  old  patriots.  At  the  outset  they  faithfully 
supported  the  conquerors  in  an  attempt  to  retain  as  much  of  Paoh's 
system  as  possible.  But  the  appointment  of  a  royal  governor  with  a 
veto  over  legislation  was  essential.  This  of  necessity  destroyed  the 
old  democracy,  for,  in  any  case,  such  an  office  must  create  a  quasi- 
aristocracy,  and  its  power  would  rest  not  on  popular  habit  and  good- 
will, but  on  the  French  soldiery.  The  situation  was  frankly  recog- 
nized, therefore,  in  a  complete  reorganization  of  the  old  nobility,  fi-om 
among  whom  a  council  of  twelve  was  selected  to  support  and  counte- 
nance the  governor.  Moreover,  the  most  important  offices  were  given 
into  French  hands,  while  the  seat  of  government  was  moved  fi-om 
Corte,  the  highland  capital,  to  the  lowland  towns  of  Bastia  and  Ajac- 
cio.  The  primeval  feud  of  highlanders  and  lowlanders  was  thus  re- 
kindled, and  ra  the  subsequent  agitations  the  patriots  won  over  by 
France  either  lost  influence  with  their  followers,  or  ceased  to  sup- 
port the  government.  Old  animosities  were  everywhere  revived  and 
strengthened,  imtd  finally  the  flames  burst  forth  in  open  robeUion. 
They  were,  of  course,  suppressed,  but  the  work  was  done  with  a  savage 
thoroughness  the  memoiy  of  which  long  survived  to  prevent  the  for- 
mation in  the  island  of  a  natm-al  sentiment  friendly  to  the  French. 
Those  who  professed  such  a  feeling  were  held  in  no  gi'eat  esteem. 

It  was  perhaps  an  eiTor  that  Paoli  did  not  recognize  the  indissolu- 


12 


Chap.  1 

1764-72 


LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [1769 

ble  bonds  of  race  and  speech  as  powerfully  di-awing  Corsica  to  Italy, 
tlisregard  the  leanings  of  the  democratic  mountaineers  toward  France, 
sympathize  with  the  fondness  of  the  towns  for  the  motherland,  and  so 
use  his  influence  as  to  confirm  the  natural  aUiance  between  the  insular 
Itahans  and  those  of  the  continent.  When  we  regard  Sardinia,  how- 
ever, time  seems  to  have  justified  him.  There  is  little  to  choose  be- 
tween the  sister  islands  as  regards  the  backward  condition  of  both; 
but  the  French  department  of  Corsica  is,  at  least,  no  less  advanced  than 
the  Italian  province  of  Sardinia.  The  final  amalgamation  of  PaoU's 
coimtry  with  France,  which  was  in  a  measure  the  result  of  his  leaning 
toward  a  French  protectorate,  accomplished  one  end,  however,  which 
has  rendered  it  impossible  to  separate  her  fi-om  the  course  of  gTcat 
events,  from  the  number  of  the  mighty  agents  in  history.  Curiously 
longing  in  his  exile  for  a  second  Sampiero  to  have  wielded  the  physical 
power  while  he  himself  should  have  become  a  Lycurgus,  Paoh's  wish 
was  to  be  half-way  fulfilled  in  that  a  wanior  greater  than  Sampiero 
was  about  to  be  born  in  Corsica,  one  who  should,  by  the  very  union 
so  long  resisted,  come,  as  the  master  of  France,  to  wield  a  power 
strong  enough  to  shatter  both  tyi-annies  and  dynasties,  thus  clearing 
the  ground  for  a  lawgiving  closely  related  to  Paoh's  own  just  and 
wise  conceptions  of  legislation. 

This  scion  was  to  come  from  the  stock  which  at  first  bore  the  name 
of  Bonaparte,  or,  as  the  heraldic  etymology  later  spelled  it,  Buonaparte. 
There  were  branches  of  the  same  stock,  or,  at  least,  of  the  same  name, 
in  many  other  parts  of  Italy.  Whatever  the  origin  of  the  Corsican 
Buonapartes,  it  was  neither  royal  from  the  twin  brother  of  Louis 
XTV.,  thought  to  be  the  Iron  Mask,  nor  imperial  from  the  Juhan  gens, 
nor  Greek,  nor  Saracen,  nor,  in  short,  anything  which  later-invented 
and  lying  genealogies  declared  it  to  be.  But  it  was  almost  certainly 
Itahan,  and  probably  patrician,  for  in  1780  a  Tuscan  gentleman  of  the 
name  devised  a  scanty  estate  to  his  distant  Corsican  kinsman.  The 
earliest  home  of  the  family  was  Florence ;  later  they  removed  for  pohti- 
cal  reasons  to  Sarzana,  in  Tuscany,  where  for  generations  men  of  that 
name  exercised  the  profession  of  advocates.  They  were  persons  of 
some  local  consequence  in  their  latest  seats,  partly  because  of  their 
Itahan  connections,  partly  ia  then-  substantial  possessions  of  land,  and 
partly  thi-ough  the  ofl&cial  positions  which  they  held  m  the  city  of 
Ajaccio.    Their  sympathies  as  lowlanders  and  tovraspeople  were  with 


1771]  THE    BONAPARTES    IN    CORSICA 


13 


the  country  of  their  origin  and  with  Genoa.     Dm-ing  the  last  years     chap.  i 
of  the  sixteenth  centuiy  that  repubhc  authorized  Jerome,  then  head      116^12 
of  the  family,  to  prefix  the  distinguishing  particle  "  di "  to  his  name ; 
but  the  Italian  custom  was  averse  to  its  use,  which  was  not  revived 
imtil  later,  and  then  only  for  a  short  time. 

,  Nearly  two  centuries  passed  before  the  grand  duke  of  Tuscany  is- 
sued formal  patents  in  1757,  attesting  the  Buonaparte  nobihty.  It 
was  Joseph,  the  grandsire  of  Napoleon,  who  received  them ;  soon 
afterward  he  annoimced  that  the  coat-armor  of  the  family  was  "la 
com-onne  de  compte,  I'ecusson  fendu  par  deux  barres  et  deux  etoilles, 
avec  les  lettres  B.  P.  qui  signifient  Buona  Parte,  le  fond  des  armes 
rougeatres,  les  barres  et  les  etoilles  bleu,  les  ombrements  et  la  couronne 
jaime ! "  Translated  as  UteraUy  as  such  doubtful  language  and  con- 
struction can  be,  this  signifies :  "A  count's  coronet,  the  escutcheon 
with  two  bends  sinister  and  two  stars,  bearing  the  letters  B.  P.,  which 
signify  Buonaparte,  the  field  of  the  arms  red,  the  bends  and  stars  blue, 
the  letters  and  coronet  yeUow ! "  In  heraldic  parlance  this  would  be : 
Gules,  two  bends  sinister  between  two  estoiles  azure  charged  with 
B.  P.  for  Buona  Parte,  or ;  surmounted  by  a  count's  coronet  of  the  last. 

In  1759  the  same  sovereign  granted  further  the  title  of  patrician. 
Charles,  the  son  of  Joseph,  received  a  similar  grant  from  the  Ai-ch- 
bishop  of  Pisa  in  1769,  These  facts  have  a  substantial  historical 
value,  since  by  reason  of  them  the  family  was  recognized  as  noble  in 
1771  by  the  French  authorities,  and  as  a  consequence  the  most  illus- 
trious scion  of  the  stem  became,  eight  years  later,  the  ward  of  a  France 
which  was  still  monarchical.  Reading  between  the  hues  of  such  a 
nan'ative,  it  appears  as  if  the  short-hved  family  of  Corsican  lawyers 
had  some  difficulty  in  preserving  an  influence  proportionate  to  their 
descent,  and  therefore  sought  to  draw  all  the  strength  they  could 
from  a  bygone  grandeiu",  easily  forgotten  by  their  neighbors  in  theii' 
moderate  circumstances  at  a  later  day. 

No  task  had  lain  nearer  to  Paoli's  heart  than  to  unite  in  one  nation 
the  two  factions  into  which  he  found  his  people  divided.  Accordingly, 
when  Carlo  Maria  di  Buonaparte,  the  single  stem  on  which  the  conse- 
quential lowland  family  depended  for  continuance,  appeared  to  pm-sue 
his  studies  at  Corte,  the  stranger  was  received  with  flattering  kindness, 
and  probably,  as  one  account  has  it,  was  appointed  to  a  post  of  emolu- 
ment  and  honor  as   Paoli's   private   secretary.     The  new  patrician, 


14 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [1769 


Chap.  I  according  to  a  custom  common  among  Corsicans  of  his  class,  de- 
n6i-T2  termuied  to  take  his  degi-ee  at  Pisa,  and  in  November,  1769,  he  was 
made  doctor  of  laws  by  that  university.  Many  pleasant  and  probably 
ti-ue  anecdotes  have  been  told  to  illustrate  the  good-fellowship  of  the 
yoimg  advocate  among  his  corm'ades  while  a  student.  There  are  like- 
wise narratives  of  his  persuasive  eloquence  and  of  his  influence  as  a 
patriot,  but  these  sound  mythical.  In  short,  an  organized  effort  of 
sycophantic  admirers,  who  would,  if  possible,  illuminate  the  whole 
family  m  order  to  heighten  Napoleon's  renown,  has  invented  fables  and 
distorted  facts  to  such  a  degree  that  the  entire  truth  as  to  Charles's 
character  is  hard  to  discern. 

Certain  undisputed  facts,  however,  throw  a  strong  hght  upon  Napo- 
leon's father.  His  people  were  proud  and  poor;  he  endured  the  hard- 
ships of  poverty  with  equanimity.  Strengthening  what  little  influence 
he  could  muster,  he  at  first  appears  ambitious,  and  has  himself  de- 
scribed in  his  doctor's  diploma  as  a  patrician  of  Florence,  San  Miniato, 
and  Ajaccio.  On  the  other  hand,  with  no  apparent  regard  for  his 
personal  advancement  by  marriage,  he  followed  his  own  inclination, 
and  in  1764,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  gallantly  wedded  a  beautiful 
child  of  fifteen,  Maria  Letizia  Ramolino.  Her  descent,  though  re- 
motely noble,  was  far  inferior  to  that  of  her  husband,  but  her  fortune 
was  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  his.  Although  weU  born,  she  was  of 
peasant  nature  to  the  last  day  of  her  long  life — hardy,  imsentimental, 
frugal,  and  sometimes  unscrupulous.  Yet  for  all  that,  the  hospitahty 
of  her  httle  home  in  Ajaccio  was  lavish  and  famous.  Among  the  many 
guests  who  were  regularly  entertained  there  was  Marbeuf,  com- 
mander in  Corsica  of  the  first  army  of  occupation.  There  was  long 
afterward  a  mahcious  tradition  that  the  French  general  was  Napo- 
leon's father.  The  morals  of  Letizia  di  Buonaparte,  hke  those  of  her 
conspicuous  children,  have  been  bitterly  assailed,  but  her  own  good 
name,  at  least,  has  always  been  vindicated.  The  evident  motive  of  the 
story  sufficiently  refutes  such  an  aspersion  as  it  contains.  Of  the 
bride's  extraordinary  beauty  there  has  never  been  a  doubt.  She  was  a 
woman  of  heroic  mold,  hke  Juno  in  her  majesty,  unmoved  in  pros- 
perity, undaunted  in  adversity.  It  was  probably  to  his  mother,  whom 
he  strongly  resembled  in  childhood,  that  the  famous  son  owed  his 
tremendous,  even  gigantic,  physical  endurance. 

After  their  marriage  the   youthful  pan-  resided  in  Corte,  waiting 


1772]  THE    BONAPARTES    IN    CORSICA  15 

until  events  should  permit  tbeii"  retiu'n  to  Ajaccio.  Naturally  of  an  Chap,  i 
indolent  temperament,  the  husband,  though  he  had  at  first  been  di-avm  1704-72 
into  the  daring  enterprises  of  Paoh,  and  had  displayed  a  momentary 
enthusiasm,  was  now,  as  he  had  been  for  more  than  a  year,  weary  of 
them.  At  the  head  of  a  body  of  men  of  his  own  rank,  he  finally  with- 
drew to  Monte  Rotondo,  and  on  May  twenty-third,  1769,  a  few  weeks 
before  Paoh's  flight,  the  band  made  formal  submission  to  Vaux,  com- 
mander of  the  second  army  of  occupation,  explaining  through  Buona- 
parte that  the  national  leader  had  misled  them  by  promises  of  aid 
which  never  came,  and  that,  recognizing  the  impossibility  of  fm'ther 
resistance,  they  were  anxious  to  accept  the  new  government,  to  return 
to  theii-  homes,  and  to  resimie  the  peaceful  conduct  of  their  affau'S. 
It  was  this  precipitate  natiirahzation  of  the  father  as  a  French  subject 
which  made  his  great  son  a  Frenchman.  Less  than  three  months 
afterward,  on  August  fifteenth,  the  fourth  child,  Napoleone  di  Buona- 
parte, was  born  in  Ajaccio. 

The  resources  of  the  Buonapartes,  as  they  stiU  wrote  themselves, 
were  small,  although  theii*  family  and  expectations  were  large.  An 
only  child,  and  her  mother  having  married  a  second  time,  Lsetitia,  to 
use  the  French  form,  inherited  her  father's  home  and  his  vineyards. 
Her  stepfather  had  been  a  Swiss  mercenary  in  the  pay  of  Genoa.  In 
order  to  secm-e  the  woman  of  his  choice  he  became  a  Roman  Cathohc, 
and  was  the  father  of  Mme.  di  Buonaparte's  half-brother,  Joseph 
Fesch.  Charles  himself  was  the  owner  of  lands  in  the  interior,  but 
they  were  heavily  mortgaged,  and  he  could  contribute  little  to  the 
support  of  his  family.  His  maternal  uncle,  a  wealthy  landlord,  had 
died  childless,  leaving  his  domains  to  the  Jesuits,  and  they  had 
promptly  entered  into  possession.  According  to  the  terms  of  his 
grandfather's  wiU,  the  bequest  was  void,  for  the  fortime  was  to  fall  in 
such  a  case  to  Charles's  mother,  and  on  her  death  to  Charles  himself. 
Joseph,  his  father,  had  wasted  many  years  and  most  of  his  fortime 
in  weary  litigation  to  recover  the  property.  Nothing  daimted,  Charles 
settled  down  to  pursue  the  same  phantom,  virtually  depending  for  a 
livelihood  on  his  wife's  patrimony.  He  became  an  officer  of  the  highest 
court  as  assessor,  and  was  made  in  1772  a  member,  and  later  a  deputy, 
of  the  council  of  Corsican  nobles. 

The  sturdy  mother  was  most  prohfic.  Her  eldest  chUd,  born  in 
1765,  was  a  son  who  died  in  infancy;  in  1767  was  bom  a  daughter, 


16 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [1772 


Chap.  I  Maria- Anna,  destined  to  the  same  fate;  in  1768  a  son,  known  later 
i7M^7-'  as  Joseph,  but  baptized  as  Nabuhone;  in  1769  the  great  son,  Napo- 
leone.  Nine  other  childi'en  were  the  fruit  of  the  same  wedlock,  and 
six  of  them — three  sons,  Lucien,  Louis,  and  Jerome,  and  three  daugh- 
ters, EUsa,  Pauhne,  and  CaroUne — survived  to  share  their  brother's 
greatness.  Charles  himself,  like  his  short-hved  ancestors, — of  whom 
five  had  died  \\dthin  a  century, — scarcely  reached  middle  age,  dying  ia 
his  thirty-ninth  year.  Lsetitia,  hke  the  stout  Corsican  that  she  was, 
lived  to  the  ripe  age  of  eighty-six  ia  the  fuU  enjoyment  of  her  facul- 
ties, known  to  the  world  as  Madame  Mere,  a  sobriquet  devised  by  her 
great  son  to  distiaguish  her  as  the  mother  of  the  Napoleons. 


IN    uEtIX    1/t.    \lLLt.,   AJAUCiU,    UUKKIUA 


ENGRAVED    BY    R.    A,   MULLER 


CARLO   BUONAPARTE 

FATHER   OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 


FROM    THK    TAINTINQ    1!V    filRODKT 


CHAPTER  II 

napoleon's  berth  and  infanct 

Birth  of  Nabulione  or  Joseph — Date  of  Napoleon's  Birth — The 
Name  Napoleon — Corsican  Conditions  as  Influencing  Napo- 
leon's Chaeacter — His  Early  Education — Influenced  by  Tra- 
ditions Concerning  Paoli — Charles  de  Buonaparte  as  a  Suitor 
FOR  Court  Favor — Napoleon  Appointed  to  Brienne — His  Ef- 
forts TO  Leaen  French  at  Autun — Development  of  His  Char- 
acter— His  Father  Delegate  of  the  Corsican  Nobility  at 
Versailles. 

THE  trials  of  poverty  made  the  Buonapartes  so  clever  and  adroit  chap.  n 
that  suspicions  of  shiftiness  in  small  matters  were  developed  later  n^n 
on,  and  these  led  to  an  over-close  scrutiny  of  their  acts.  The  opinion 
has  not  yet  disappeared  among  reputable  authorities  that  Nabulione 
and  Napoleone  were  one  and  the  same,  born  on  January  seventh,  1768, 
Joseph  being  really  the  younger,  born  on  the  date  assigned  to  his  dis- 
tinguished brother.  The  earhest  documentary  evidence  consists  of 
two  papers,  one  in  the  archives  of  the  French  War  Department,  one 
in  those  of  Ajaccio.  The  former  is  dated  1782,  and  testifies  to  the  bu-th 
of  NabuUone  on  January  seventh,  1768,  and  to  his  baptism  on  Januaiy 
eighth;  the  latter  is  the  copy  of  an  original  paper  which  declares  the 
birth,  on  January  seventh,  of  Joseph  Nabuhon.  Neither  is  decisive, 
but  the  addition  of  Joseph,  with  the  use  of  the  two  French  forms  for 
the  name  in  the  second,  destroys  much  of  its  value,  and  leaves  the 
weight  of  authority  with  the  former.  The  reasonableness  of  the  sus- 
picion seems  to  be  heightened  by  the  fact  that  the  certificate  of  Napo- 
leon's marriage  gives  the  date  of  his  bu-th  as  Febniary  eighth,  1768. 
Moreover,  in  the  marriage  contract  of  Joseph,  witnesses  testify  to  his 
having  been  bom  at  Ajaccio,  not  at  Corte. 


18 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t.  1-10 


Chat,  n  But  there  are  facts  of  greater  weight  on  the  other  side.     In  the  first 

17(5^79  place,  the  dociunentary  CA-idence  is  itself  of  equal  value,  for  the  ar- 
chives of  the  French  War  Department  also  contain  an  extract  from 
the  one  original  baptismal  certificate,  which  is  dated  July  twenty- 
first,  1771,  the  day  of  the  baptism,  and  gives  the  date  of  Napoleone's 
birth  as  August  fifteenth,  1769.  Charles's  apphcation  for  the  appoint- 
ment of  his  two  eldest  boys  to  Brienne  has  also  been  found,  and  it 
contains,  according  to  regulation,  still  another  copy  from  the  original 
certificate,  which  is  dated  June  twenty-third,  1776,  and  also  gives  what 
must  be  accepted  as  the  coiTCct  date.  This  explodes  the  story  that 
Napoleon's  age  was  falsified  by  his  father  in  order  to  obtain  admittance 
for  him  to  the  mihtary  school.  The  application  was  made  in  1776  for 
both  boys,  so  as  to  secure  admission  for  each  before  the  end  of  his 
tenth  year.  It  was  the  delay  of  the  authorities  in  granting  the  request 
which,  after  the  lapse  of  three  years  or  more,  made  Joseph  ineligible. 
The  father  could  have  had  no  motive  in  1776  to  perpetrate  a  fraud,  and 
after  that  date  it  was  impossible,  for  the  papers  were  not  in  his  hands ; 
moreover,  the  Minister  of  War  wrote  in  1778  that  the  name  of  the  elder 
Buonaparte  boy  had  already  been  withdrawn.  That  charge  was  made 
during  Napoleon's  lifetime.  His  brother  Joseph  positively  denied  it, 
and  asserted  the  fact  as  it  is  now  substantially  proved  to  be;  Bour- 
rienne,  who  had  known  his  Emperor  as  a  child  of  nine,  was  of  like 
opinion;  Napoleon  himself,  in  an  autograph  paper  still  existing,  and 
written  in  the  handwi'iting  of  his  youth,  thrice  gives  the  date  of  his 
birth  as  August  fifteenth,  1769.  If  the  substitution  occuiTed,  it  must 
have  been  in  early  infancy.  In  the  walk  of  life  to  which  the  Buona- 
partes belonged,  the  fixity  of  names  was  not  as  rigid  then  as  it  later 
became.  There  were  three  Maria- Annas  in  the  family  first  and  last, 
one  of  whom  was  afterward  called  Elisa.  Besides,  we  know  why  Napo- 
leon at  marriage  sought  to  appear  older  than  he  was,  and  Joseph's  con- 
tract, was  written  when  the  misstatement  in  it  was  valuable  as  making 
him  appear  thoroughly  French. 

As  to  the  given  name  Napoleon,  there  is  a  curious  though  unimpor- 
tant confusion.  We  have  already  seen  the  forms  Nabulione,  Nabuhon, 
Napoleone,  Napoleon.  Contemporary  documents  give  also  the  form 
Napoloeone,  and  his  marriage  certificate  uses  Napohone.  On  the  Ven- 
dome  Cohmm  stands  Napoho.  Imp.,  which  might  be  read  either  Na- 
pohoni  Imperatori  or  Napoho  Imperatori.     In  either  case  we   have 


^T.  1-10]  NAPOLEON'S    BIRTH   AND    INFANCY  19 

indications  of  a  new  form,  Napolion  or  Napolius.  The  latter,  which  chap.  n 
was  more  probably  intended,  would  seem  to  be  an  attempt  to  recall  iies-ia 
Neopolus,  a  recognized  saint's  name.  The  absence  of  the  name  Napo- 
leon from  the  calendar  of  the  Latin  Chm"ch  was  considered  a  serious 
reproach  to  its  bearer  by  those  who  hated  him,  and  then*  incessant 
taunts  stung  him.  In  after  years  he  had  the  matter  remedied,  and 
the  French  Cathohcs  for  a  time  celebrated  a  St.  Napoleon's  day  with 
proper  ceremonies,  among  which  was  the  singing  of  a  hymn  composed 
to  celebrate  the  power  and  vii-tues  of  the  holy  man  for  whom  it  was 
named.  The  irreverent  school-boys  of  Autun  and  Brienne  gave  the 
nickname  "straw  nose" — paille-au-nez  —  to  both  the  brothers.  The 
pronunciation,  therefore,  was  probably  as  uncertain  as  the  form,  Na- 
paille-au-nez  being  probably  a  distortion  of  Napouillone.  The  chame- 
leon-like character  of  the  name  corresponds  exactly  to  the  chameleon- 
like character  of  the  times,  the  man,  and  the  lands  of  his  birth  and  his 
adoption.  The  Corsican  noble  and  French  royalist  was  Napoleone  de 
Buonaparte;  the  Corsican  repubUcan  and  patriot  was  Napoleone 
Buonaparte;  the  French  repubhcan.  Napoleon  Buonaparte;  the  vic- 
torious general,  Bonaparte ;  the  emperor.  Napoleon.  There  was  like- 
wise a  change  in  this  person's  handwriting  analogous  to  the  change  in 
his  nationahty  and  opinions.  It  was  probably  to  conceal  a  most  de- 
fective knowledge  of  French  that  the  adoptive  Frenchman,  repubhcan, 
constd,  and  emperor  abandoned  the  faii'ly  legible  hand  of  his  youth, 
and  recurred  to  the  atrocious  one  of  his  childhood,  continuing  always 
to  use  it  after  his  definite  choice  of  a  countiy. 

Stormy  indeed  were  his  nation  and  his  birthtime.  He  himself 
said:  "I  was  born  while  my  country  was  dying.  Thirty  thousand 
French,  vomited  on  our  shores,  drowning  the  throne  of  hberty  in 
waves  of  blood  —  such  was  the  horrid  sight  which  first  met  my  view. 
The  cries  of  the  dying,  the  gi'oans  of  the  oppressed,  tears  of  despair, 
suiTounded  my  cradle  at  my  bu'th." 

Such  were  the  words  he  used  in  1789,  while  still  a  Corsican  in  feel- 
ing, when  addressing  Paoh.  They  strain  chronology  for  the  sake  of 
rhetorical  effect,  but  they  truthfully  pictm-e  the  circumstances  under 
which  he  was  conceived.  There  is  a  late  myth  which  recalls  in  de- 
tail that  when  the  pains  of  partmition  seized  his  mother  she  was  at 
mass,  and  that  she  reached  her  chamber  just  in  time  to  deposit,  on 
a  piece  of  embroidery  representing  the  young  AchiUes,  the  prodigy 


20 


LIFE  OP  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^T.  1-10 


Chap,  n  biiTsting  SO  impetuously  into  the  world.  By  the  man  hunself  his  na- 
176^-79  tm-e  was  always  represented  as  the  product  of  his  hour,  and  this  he 
considered  a  sufficient  excuse  for  any  line  of  conduct  he  chose  to  fol- 
low. When  in  banishment  at  Longwood,  and  on  his  death-bed,  he 
recalled  the  cu-cumstances  of  his  childhood  in  conversations  with  the 
attendant  physician,  a  Corsican  like  himself:  "Nothing  awed  me;  I 
feared  no  one.  I  struck  one,  I  scratched  another,  I  was  a  terror  to 
everybody.  It  was  my  brother  Joseph  with  whom  I  had  most  to  do ; 
he  was  beaten,  bitten,  scolded,  and  I  had  put  the  blame  on  him  almost 
before  he  knew  what  he  was  about ;  was  telling  tales  about  him  almost 
before  he  could  collect  his  wits.  I  had  to  be  quick :  my  mama  Letizia 
would  have  restrained  my  warlike  temper;  she  would  not  have  put 
up  with  my  defiant  petulance.  Her  tenderness  was  severe,  meting  out 
punishment  and  reward  with  equal  justice ;  merit  and  demerit,  she 
took  both  into  account." 

Of  his  earhest  education  he  said  at  the  same  time :  "  Like  every- 
thing else  in  Corsica,  it  was  pitiful."  Lucien  Buonaparte,  his  great- 
uncle,  was  a  canon,  a  man  of  substance  with  an  income  of  five  thousand 
hvres  a  year,  and  of  some  education  —  sufficient,  at  least,  to  permit  his 
further  ecclesiastical  advancement.  "  Uncle  "  Fesch,  whose  father  had 
received  the  good  education  of  a  Protestant  Swiss  boy,  and  had  in  turn 
imparted  his  knowledge  to  his  own  son,  was  the  fi'iend  and  older  play- 
mate of  the  turbulent  little  Buonaparte.  The  child  learned  a  few 
notions  of  Bible  history,  and,  doubtless,  also  the  catechism,  from  the 
canon ;  by  his  eleven-year-old  uncle  he  was  taught  his  alphabet.  In 
his  sixth  year  he  was  sent  to  a  dame's  school.  The  boys  teased  him 
•  because  his  stockings  were  always  down  over  his  shoes,  and  for  his  de- 
votion to  the  girls,  one  named  Giacominetta  especially.  He  met  their 
taunts  with  blows,  using  sticks,  bricks,  or  any  handy  weapon.  Accord- 
ing to  his  own  story,  he  was  fearless  in  the  face  of  superior  numbers » 
however  large.  His  mother  declared  that  he  was  a  perfect  imp  of  a 
child.  Of  French  he  knew  not  a  word;  he  had  lessons  at  school  in  his 
mother  tongue,  which  he  learned  to  read  under  the  instruction  of  the 
Abbe  Recco. 

This  scanty  information  is  all  we  possess.  With  slight  additions 
from  other  som-ces  it  is  substantially  Napoleon's  own  account  of  him- 
self in  that  last  period  of  self-examination  when,  to  him,  as  to  other 
men,  consistency  seems  the  highest  virtue.     He  was,  doubtless,  striving 


TYruOIIAMlUJ    itOI  fSOli,    \ArAliuN    A    CO,    i'API? 


NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE    IN     178=),    AGED    SIXTEEN. 

FHOM  SSETCH  MADE  8V   \  COMflAOE  ,  FOKMERr.V  IN   TUt  ML'SEE   DES  SOl'VER  Vl.\?,  NJW  (N    THE    I.OI'VUE. 


^T,  1-10]  NAPOJLiEON'S    BIRTH   AND    INFANCY  21 

to  compound  with  his  conscience  by  emphasizing  the  adage  that  the     Chap.  n 
child  is  father  to  the  man — that  he  was  bom  what  he  had  always  been.      n^79 

In  1775  Corsica  had  been  for  six  years  ia  the  possession  of  France, 
and  on  the  surface  all  was  fau\  There  was,  however,  a  httle  remnant 
of  faithful  patriots  left  in  the  island,  with  whom  Paoh  and  his  banished 
friends  were  still  in  communication.  The  royal*  cabinet,  seeking  to 
remove  every  possible  danger  of  distm*bance,  even  so  shght  a  one  as 
lay  in  the  disaffection  of  the  few  scattered  nationahsts,  and  ia  the 
unconcealed  distrust  which  these  felt  for  their  conforming  fellow-citi- 
zens, began  a  httle  later  to  make  advances,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  win 
at  least  Paoh's  neutrahty,  if  not  his  acquiescence.  All  in  vain:  the 
exile  was  not  to  be  moved.  From  time  to  time,  therefore,  there  was 
thi-oughout  Corsica  a  noticeable  flow  in  the  tide  of  patriotism.  There 
are  indications  that  the  child  Napoleon  was  conscious  of  this  influence, 
listening  probably  with  intense  interest  to  the  sympathetic  tales  about 
PaoU  and  his  struggles  for  hberty  which  were  still  told  among  the 
people. 

As  to  Charles  de  Buonaparte,  some  things  he  had  hoped  for  from 
annexation  were  secured.  His  nobility  and  ofl&cial  rank  were  safe ;  he 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  reach  even  higher  distinction.  But  what  were 
honors  without  wealth"?  The  domestic  meaus  were  constantly  grow- 
ing smaller,  while  expenditures  increased  with  the  accumulating  digni- 
ties and  ever-growing  family.  He  had  made  his  humble  submission  to 
the  French;  his  reception  had  been  warm  and  graceful.  The  authori- 
ties knew  of  his  pretensions  to  the  estates  of  his  ancestors.  The 
Jesuits  had  been  disgraced  and  banished,  but  the  propei"ty  had  not 
been  restored  to  him;  on  the  contrary,  the  buildings  had  been  con- 
verted into  school-houses,  and  the  revenues  turned  into  various  chan- 
nels. Years  had  passed,  and  it  was  evident  that  his  suit  was  hopeless. 
How  could  substantial  advantage  for  the  part  he  had  taken  be  secured 
from  the  Kingl  His  friends,  Greneral  Marbeuf  in  particular,  were  of 
the  opinion  that  he  could  profit  to  a  certain  extent  at  least  by  securing 
for  his  children  an  education  at  the  expense  of  the  state.  The  fii'st 
steps  were  soon  taken,  and  in  1776  the  formal  supplication  for  the  two 
eldest  boys  was  forwarded  to  Paris.  Immediately  the  proof  of  foiu* 
noble  descents  was  demanded.  The  movement  of  letters  was  slow, 
that  of  officials  even  slower,  and  the  delays  in  secm'ing  copies  and 
authentications  of  the  various  documerts  were  long  and  vexatious. 


22 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t.  1-10 


Chap,  h  Meantime  Choiseiil  had  been  disgraced,  and  on  May  tenth,  1774,  the 

nesl-D  old  King  had  died ;  Louis  XVI.  now  reigned.  The  inertia  which  marked 
the  briUiaut  decadence  of  the  Bom-bon  monarchy  was  finally  over- 
come. The  new  social  forces  were  partly  emancipated.  Facts  were 
examined,  and  their  significance  considered.  Bankruptcy  was  no 
longer  a  threatening  phantom,  but  a  menacing  reahty  of  the  most 
serious  nature.  Retrenchment  and  reform  were  the  order  of  the  day. 
Necker  was  trying  his  promising  schemes.  There  was,  among  them, 
one  for  a  body  consisting  of  delegates  from  each  of  the  three  estates, — 
nobles,  ecclesiastics,  and  burgesses, — to  assist  in  deciding  that  trou- 
blesome question,  the  regulation  of  imposts.  The  Swiss  financier 
hoped  to  destroy  in  this  way  the  sullen,  defiant  influence  of  the  royal 
intendants.  In  Corsica  the  governor  and  the  intendant  both  thought 
themselves  too  shrewd  to  be  trapped,  securing  the  appointment  from 
each  of  the  Corsican  estates  of  men  who  were  beheved  by  them  to  be 
their  humble  servants.  The  needy  suitor,  Charles  de  Buonaparte,  was 
to  be  the  delegate  at  Versailles  of  the  nobihty.  They  thought  they 
knew  this  man  in  particular,  but  he  was  to  prove  as  malleable  in  France 
as  he  had  been  in  Corsica.  Though  nearly  penniless,  his  vanity  was 
tickled,  and  he  accepted  the  mission,  setting  out  in  1778  by  way  of 
Tuscany  with  his  two  sons  Joseph  and  Napoleon.  With  them  were 
Joseph  Fesch,  appointed  to  the  seminary  at  Aix,  and  Varesa,  Laetitia's 
cousin,  who  was  to  be  sub-deacon  at  Autun.  Joseph  and  Napoleon  both 
asserted  in  later  life  that  during  their  sojoiu-n  in  Florence  the  grand 
duke  gave  his  friend,  the  father,  a  letter  to  his  sister,  Marie  Antoinette. 
As  the  grand  duke  was  at  that  time  in  Vienna,  the  whole  account  they 
give  of  the  joimiey  is  probably  imtrue.  It  was  really  to  Marbeuf's  in- 
fluence that  the  final  partial  success  of  Chai'les  de  Buonaparte's  supph- 
cation  was  due;  to  the  general's  nephew,  bishop  of  Autun,  Joseph,  now 
too  old  to  be  received  in  the  royal  mihtary  school,  and  later  Lucien, 
were  both  sent,  the  former  to  be  educated  as  a  priest.  It  was  probably 
Marbeuf's  influence  also,  combined  with  a  desire  to  conciliate  Corsica, 
which  caused  the  heralds'  office  finally  to  accept  the  documents  attesting 
the  Buonapartes'  nobility.  On  April  twenty-third,  1779,  Napoleon  left 
Autun,  having  been  admitted  to  Brieune,  and  it  was  to  Marbeuf  that  in 
later  life  he  attributed  his  appointment.  After  spending  three  weeks 
with  a  school  friend,  he  entered  upon  his  duties  about  the  middle  of  May. 
On  New  Year's  day,  1779,  the  Buonapartes  had  arrived  at  Autun, 


^T.l-lOJ    ,        NAPOLEON'S  BIRTH  AND  INFANCY  23 

and  for  three  months  the  young  Napoleone  had  been  trained  in  the  use  chap.  n 
of  French.  Prodigy  as  he  was,  his  progress  had  been  slow,  the  diffi-  itcs^to 
culties  of  that  elegant  and  pohshed  tongue  having  scarcely  been 
reached;  so  that  it  was  with  a  most  imperfect  knowledge  of  their 
language,  and  a  sadly  defective  pronunciation,  that  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance among  his  futiu'e  schoolmates  at  Brienne.  There  were  one 
hundred  and  fifty  of  them,  although  the  arrangement  and  theory  of 
the  institution  had  contemplated  only  one  himdred  and  twenty,  of 
whom  half  were  to  be  foundationers.  The  instructors  were  Minim 
priests,  and  the  life  was  as  severe  as  it  could  be  made  with  such  a 
clientage  under  half-educated  and  inexperienced  monks.  In  spite  of 
all  efforts  to  the  contrary,  however,  the  place  had  an  air  of  elegance; 
there  was  a  certain  school-boy  display  proportionate  to  the  pocket- 
money  of  the  young  nobles,  and  a  very  keen  discrimination  among 
themselves  as  to  rank,  social  quality,  and  relative  importance.  Those 
famihar  with  the  ruthlessness  of  boys  in  their  treatment  of  one  an- 
other can  easily  conceive  what  was  the  reception  of  the  newcomer, 
whose  nobility  was  im.known  and  unrecognized  in  France,  and  whose 
means  were  of  the  scantiest. 

It  appears  that  the  journey  from  Corsica  through  Florence  and 
Marseilles  had  abeady  wrought  a  marvelous  change  in  the  boy.  Na- 
poleon's teacher  at  Autun,  the  Abbe  Chardon,  described  his  pupil  as 
having  brought  with  him  a  sober,  thoughtful  character.  He  played 
with  no  one,  and  took  his  walks  alone.  The  boys  of  Autun,  says  the 
same  authority,  on  one  occasion  brought  the  sweeping  charge  of  cow- 
ardice against  aU  inhabitants  of  Corsica,  in  order  to  exasperate  him. 
"  If  they  [the  French]  had  been  but  four  to  one,"  was  the  cahn,  phleg- 
matic answer  of  the  ten-year-old  boy,  "  they  would  never  have  taken 
Corsica ;  but  when  they  were  ten  to  one  .  .  ."  "  But  you  had  a  fine 
general  —  Paoh,"  interrupted  the  narrator.  "  Yes,  sire,"  was  the  reply, 
uttered  with  an  air  of  discontent,  and  in  the  very  embodiment  of  am- 
bition; "I  should  much  hke  to  emulate  him."  The  description  of  the 
imtamed  faun  as  he  then  appeared  is  not  flattering:  his  complexion 
sallow,  his  hair  stiff,  his  figm-e  shght,  his  expression  lusterless,  his 
manner  insignificant.  Moreover,  he  spoke  broken  French  with  an 
Italian  accent. 

During  his  son's  preparatory  studies  at  Autim  the  father  had  been 
busy  at  Versailles  with  further  suppHcations— among  them  one  for 


24 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE 


[^T.  1-10 


Chap,  n  a  supplement  from  the  royal  purse  to  his  scanty  pay  as  delegate,  and 
17^79  another  for  the  speedy  settlement  of  his  now  notorious  claim.  The 
former  of  the  two  was  granted  not  merely  to  M.  de  Buonaparte,  but 
to  his  two  colleagues,  in  view  of  the  "excellent  behavior"  —  other- 
wise subserviency  —  of  the  Corsican  delegation  at  Versailles.  When, 
in  addition,  the  certificate  of  Napoleon's  appointment  finally  arrived, 
and  the  father  set  out  to  place  his  son  at  school,  with  a  proper  outfit, 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  securing  sufficient  money  to  meet  his  immediate 
and  pressing  necessities ;  but  more  was  not  forthcoming. 


l.^TITIA    RAMOLINO 

WIFE    OF    CARLO    BUONAPARTE  ;    MOTHER    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 


KJtOM     THK     VOHTHAIT     IIANOIMCI     IS     TIIK     ItOOSI     ill.-     HIS     IIIKTII     AT     AJAICKJ 


CHAPTER  in 

napoleon's  school-days 

Mtt.ttaky  Schools  in  Fkance  —  Napoleon's  Initiation  into  the  Lite 
or  Bkienne — His  Powerful  Friends — His  Reading  and  Other 
Avocations  —  His  Studies  —  His  Conduct  and  Scholarship  —  The 
Change  in  His  Lite  Plan  —  His  Influence  in  His  Family  —  His 
Choice  of  the  Artillery  Service. 

IT  was  an  old  charge  that  the  sons  of  poor  gentlemen  destined  to  be  chap.  in 
artillery  officers  were  bred  like  princes.  Brienne,  with  nine  other  1779-84 
similar  academies,  had  been  bnt  recently  founded  as  a  protest  against 
the  luxmy  which  had  reigned  in  the  military  schools  at  Paris  and  La 
Fleche.  Both  the  latter  were  closed  for  a  time  because  they  could  not 
be  reformed ;  that  at  Paris  was  afterward  reopened  as  a  finishing- 
school.  Various  rehgious  orders  were  put  in  charge  of  the  new  col- 
leges, with  instructions  to  secure  simphcity  of  life  and  manners,  the 
formation  of  character,  and  other  desirable  benefits,  each  one  in  its 
own  way  in  the  school  or  schools  intrusted  to  it.  The  result  so  far 
had  been  a  failure ;  there  were  simply  not  ten  first-rate  instructors  to 
be  found  in  France  for  the  new  positions  in  each  branch;  the  in- 
struction was  therefore  much  impaired,  and  with  it  declined  the  right 
standards  of  conduct,  while  the  old  notions  of  hoUow  courtliness  and 
conventional  behavior  flomished  as  never  before.  Money  and  pohshcd 
manners,  therefore,  were  the  things  most  needed  to  secure  kind  treat- 
ment for  an  entering  boy.  These  were  exactly  what  the  yoimg  foim- 
dation  scholar  from  Corsica  did  not  possess.  The  ignorant  and  un- 
worldly Minim  fathers  could  neither  foresee  nor,  if  they  had  foreseen, 
alleviate  the  miseries  incident  to  his  arrival  under  such  conditions. 
At  Autun  Napoleon  had  at  least  enjoyed  the  sympathetic  society 


26 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  •  [^t.  10-15 


Chap,  ra  of  liis  mild  and  unemotional  brother,  whose  easy-going  nature  could 
1779^4  smooth  many  a  rough  place.  He  was  now  entirely  without  compan- 
ionship, resenting  from  the  outset  both  the  ill-natured  attacks  and  the 
playful  personal  allusions  through  which  boys  so  often  begin,  and  with 
time  knit  ever  more  firmly,  their  inexphcable  friendships.  To  the 
taunts  about  Corsica  which  began  immediately  he  answered  coldly,  "  I 
hope  one  day  to  be  in  a  position  to  give  Corsica  her  liberty."  Entering 
on  a  certain  occasion  a  room  in  which  unknown  to  him  there  hung  a 
portrait  of  the  hated  Choiseul,  he  started  back  as  he  caught  sight  of  it 
and  bm-st  into  bitter  revihags;  for  this  he  was  compelled  to  undergo 
chastisement.  Brienne  was  a  nm*sery  for  the  qualities  first  developed 
at  Autun.  Dark,  soUtary,  and  untamed,  the  new  scholar  assumed  the 
indifference  of  wounded  vanity,  despised  all  pastimes,  and  found  de- 
light either  in  books  or  in  scornful  exasperation  of  his  comrades  when 
compelled  to  associate  mth  them.  There  were  quarrels  and  bitter 
fights,  in  which  the  Ishmaelite's  hand  was  against  every  other.  Some- 
times in  a  kind  of  frenzy  he  inflicted  serious  wounds  on  his  fellow- 
students.  At  length  even  the  teachers  mocked  him,  and  deprived  him 
of  his  position  as  captain  in  the  school  battahon. 

The  climax  of  the  miserable  business  was  reached  when  to  a  taunt 
that  his  ancestry  was  nothing,  "his  father  a  wretched  tipstaff,"  Napo- 
leon rephed  by  challenging  his  tormentor  to  fight  a  duel.  For  this 
offense  he  was  put  in  confinement  while  the  instigator  went  unpun- 
ished. It  was  by  the  intervention  of  Marbeuf  that  his  young  friend 
was  at  length  released.  Bruised  and  wounded  in  spirit,  the  boy  would 
gladly  have  shaken  the  dust  of  Brienne  from  his  feet,  but  necessity 
forbade.  Either  from  some  direct  communication  Napoleon  had  with 
his  protector,  or  through  a  dramatic  but  unauthenticated  letter  purport- 
ing to  have  been  wiitten  by  him  to  his  friends  in  Corsica  and  still  in 
existence,  Marbeuf  learned  that  the  chiefest  cause  of  all  the  bitterness 
was  the  inequality  between  the  pocket  allowances  of  the  young  French 
nobles  and  that  of  the  young  Corsican.  The  kindly  general  displayed 
the  hberahty  of  a  family  friend,  and  gladly  increased  the  boy's  gratu- 
ity, administering  at  the  same  time  a  smart  rebuke  to  him  for  his 
readiness  to  take  offense.  He  is  hkewise  thought  to  have  introduced 
his  yoimg  charge  to  Mme.  Lomenie  de  Brienne,  whose  mansion  was 
near  by.  This  noble  woman,  it  is  asserted,  became  a  second  mother  to 
the  lonely  child:  his  vacations  and  hohdays  were  passed  with  her;  her 


^T.10-15]  NAPOLEON'S    SCHOOL-DAYS  27 

tenderness  softened  Ms  rude  natm-e,  the  more  so  as  she  knew  the  vahie  of    Cuap.  hi 
tips  to  a  school-boy,  and  administered  them  hberally  though  judiciously.      i779-»4 

Nor  was  this  the  only  Ught  among  the  shadows  in  the  pietiu-e  of 
these  early  school-days.  Each  of  the  hundred  and  fifty  pupils  had  a 
small  garden  spot  assigned  to  him.  Buonaparte  developed  a  passion 
for  his  own,  and,  annexing  by  force  the  neglected  plots  of  his  two 
neighbors,  created  for  himself  a  retreat,  the  solitude  of  which  was 
insm-ed  by  a  thick  and  lofty  hedge  planted  about  it.  To  this  citadel, 
the  sanctity  of  which  he  protected  with  a  fury  at  times  half  insane,  he 
was  wont  to  retu'e  in  the  fan-  weather  of  all  seasons,  with  whatever 
books  he  could  secure.  In  the  companionship  of  these  he  passed 
happy,  pleasant,  and  fruitful  hours.  His  youthful  patriotism  had  been 
intensified  by  the  hatred  he  now  felt  for  French  school-boys,  and 
through  them  for  France.  "I  can  never  forgive  my  father,"  he  once 
cried,  "for  the  share  he  had  in  uniting  Corsica  to  France."  Paoli 
became  his  hero,  and  the  favorite  subjects  of  his  reading  were  the 
mighty  deeds  of  men  and  peoples,  especially  in  antiquity.  Such  matter 
he  found  abundant  in  Plutarch's  "Lives."  Moreover,  his  degi-adation 
by  the  school  authorities  at  once  created  a  sentiment  in  his  favor 
among  his  companions,  which  not  only  coimteracted  the  effect  of  the 
punishment,  but  gave  him  a  sort  of  compensating  leadership  in  their 
games.  The  weU-known  episode  of  the  snow  forts  illustrates  the  bent 
of  his  natui'e.  When  driven  by  storms  to  abandon  his  garden  haunt,  and 
to  associate  in  the  public  hall  with  the  other  boys,  he  often  instituted 
sports  in  which  opposing  camps  of  Grreeks  and  Persians,  or  of  Romans 
and  Carthaginians,  fought  until  the  uproar  brought  down  the  authori- 
ties to  end  the  conflict.  On  one  occasion  he  proposed  the  game,  com- 
mon enough  elsewhere,  but  not  so  famihar  then  in  France,  of  building 
snow  forts,  of  storming  and  defending  them,  and  of  fighting  with 
snowballs  as  weapons.  The  proposition  was  accepted,  and  the  prepara- 
tions were  made  under  his  direction  with  scientific  zeal;  the  intrench- 
ments,  forts,  bastions,  and  redoubts  were  the  admiration  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. For  weeks  the  mimic  warfare  went  on,  Buonaparte,  always 
in  command,  being  sometimes  the  besieger  and  as  often  the  besieged. 
Such  was  th^  aptitude,  such  the  resources,  and  such  the  commanding 
power  which  he  showed  in  either  role,  that  the  winter  was  always  re- 
membered in  the  annals  of  the  school. 

It  is  a  trite  remark  that  diamonds  can  be  polished  only  by  diamond 


28 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  10-15 


Chap,  ui  dust.  Whatever  the  iiide  processes  were  to  which  this  rude  nature  was 
1779^  subjected,  the  result  was  remarkablCo  Latin  he  dishked,  and  treated 
with  disdaioful  neglect.  His  particular  aptitudes  were  for  mathemat- 
ics and  for  histoiy,  iu  which  he  made  fair  progress.  In  all  du-ections, 
however,  he  was  quick  ia  his  perceptions;  the  rapid  maturrag  of  his 
mind  by  reading  and  reflection  was  evident  to  all  his  associates,  hostile 
though  they  were.  The  most  convincing  evidence  of  the  fact  will  be 
foimd  in  a  letter  wiitten,  probably  in  178-i,  when  he  was  fifteen  years 
old,  to  an  uncle, — possibly  Pesch, — concerning  family  matters.  His 
brother  Joseph  had  gone  to  Autun  to  be  educated  for  the  Church,  his 
sister  (Maria- Anna)  Ehsa  had  been  appointed  on  the  royal  foundation 
at  Saint-Cyr,  and  Lucien  was,  if  possible,  to  be  placed  like  Napoleon 
at  Brienne.  The  two  younger  children  had  already  accompanied  their 
father  on  his  regular  journey  to  Versailles,  and  Lucien  was  now  in- 
stalled either  in  the  school  itself  or  near  by,  to  be  in  readiness  for  any 
vacancy.  All  was  well  with  the  rest,  except  that  Joseph  was  uneasy, 
and  wished  to  become  an  officer  too.  The  tone  of  Napoleon  is  extra- 
ordinary. Opening  with  a  httle  sketch  of  Lucien  such  as  any  elder 
brother  might  draw  of  a  younger,  he  proceeds  to  an  analysis  of  Joseph 
both  searching  and  thorough,  explaining  with  fullness  of  reasoning  and 
illustration  how  much  more  advantageous  from  the  worldly  point  of 
view  both  for  Joseph  and  for  the  family  would  be  a  career  in  the 
Church:  "the  bishop  of  Autun  would  bestow  a  fat  hving  on  him,  and 
he  was  sure  of  himself  becoming  a  bishop."  As  an  obiter  dictum  it  con- 
tains a  curious  expression  of  contempt  for  infantiy  as  an  arm,  the 
origui  of  which  feeling  is  by  no  means  clear.  There  is  an  utter  absence 
of  loose  talk,  or  of  enthusiasm,  and  no  allusion  to  principle  or  senti- 
ment. It  is  the  work  of  a  cold,  calculating,  and  dictatorial  nature. 
There  is  a  poetical  quotation  in  it,  very  apt,  but  very  badly  speUed;  and 
while  the  expression  throughout  is  fair,  it  is  by  no  means  what  might 
be  expected  fi'om  a  person  capable  of  such  thought,  who  had  been 
studying  French  for  three  years,  and  using  it  exclusively  in  daily  life. 
In  August,  1783,  Buonaparte  and  Bourrienne,  according  to  the 
statement  of  the  latter,  shared  the  first  prize  in  mathematics ;  and  soon 
afterward,  in  the  same  year,  a  royal  inspector,  M.  de  KeraHo,  arrived 
at  Brienne  to  test  the  progress  of  the  King's  wards.  He  took  a  great 
fancy  to  the  Httle  Buonaparte,  and  declaring  that,  though  unacquainted 
with  his  family,  he  found  a  spark  in  him.  which  must  not  be  extin- 


o 

> 

> 


3: 

W 

z 

o 

G 

< 

> 
G 

> 
H 

H 

m 
en 

n 
a 
o 
o 

o 

w 
2 

:?^ 

tT) 


^T.  10-15]  NAPOLEON'S    SCHOOL-DAYS 


29 


guished,  wrote  an  emphatic  recommendation  of  the  lad,  couched  iu  the  Chap.  iii 
following  terms:  "M.  de  Bonaparte  (Napoleon),  born  August  fifteenth,  ni^si 
1769.  Height  fom-  feet,  ten  inches,  ten  lines  [about  five  feet  three 
inches  EngUsh].  Constitution:  excellent  health,  docile  disposition, 
mild,  straightforward,  thoughtful.  Conduct  most  satisfactory;  has 
always  been  distinguished  for  his  apphcation  in  mathematics.  He  is 
fauiy  well  acquainted  with  history  and  geography.  He  is  weak  in  all 
accomplishments — drawing,  dancing,  music,  and  the  Uke.  This  boy 
would  make  an  excellent  sailor;  deserves  to  be  admitted  to  the  school 
in  Paris."  Unfortunately  for  the  prospect  of  a  place  in  the  navy,  M. 
de  KeraUo,  who  was  a  powerful  friend,  died  almost  immediately. 

By  means  of  fm-ther  genuflections,  supphcations,  and  wearisome 
persistency,  Charles  de  Buonapai-te  at  last  obtained  favor  not  only  for 
Lucien,  but  for  Joseph  also.  Deprived  unjustly  of  his  inheritance,  de- 
prived also  of  his  comforts  and  his  home  in  pursuit  of  the  ambitious 
schemes  rendered  necessary  by  that  wrong,  the  poor  diplomatist  was 
now  near  the  end  of  his  resom-ces  and  his  energy.  Napoleon  had 
been  destined  for  the  navy.  Thi'ough  the  favor  of  the  school  inspec- 
tor, who  had  just  died,  he  was  to  have  been  sent  to  Paris,  and 
thence  assigned  to  Toulon,  the  naval  port  in  closest  connection  with 
Corsica.  There  were  so  many  influential  applications,  however,  for 
that  favorite  branch  of  the  service  that  the  department  must  rid  itself 
of  as  many  as  possible;  a  youth  without  a  patron  would  be  the  first  to 
suffer.  The  agreement,  therefore,  was  that  he  might  continue  at  Bri- 
enne,  while  Joseph  could  go  thither,  or  to  Metz,  in  order  to  make  up  his 
deficiencies  in  the  mathematical  sciences  and  pass  his  examinations  to 
enter  the  royal  service  along  with  Napoleon,  on  condition  that  the 
latter  would  renounce  his  plans  and  choose  a  career  in  the  army. 

The  letter  in  which  the  boy  communicates  his  decision  to  his  father 
is  as  remarkable  as  the  one  just  mentioned.  The  anxious  and  indus- 
trious parent  had  finally  broken  down,  and  in  his  feeble  health  had 
taken  Joseph  as  a  support  and  help  on  the  arduous  homeward  jour- 
ney. "With  the  same  succinct,  imsparing  statement  as  before.  Napoleon 
confesses  his  disappointment,  and  in  commanding  phrase,  with  logical 
analysis,  lays  down  the  reasons  why  Joseph  must  come  to  Brienne 
instead  of  going  to  Metz.  There  is,  however,  a  new  element  in  the 
composition — a  frank,  hearty  expression  of  affection  for  his  family, 
and  a  message  of  kindly  remembrance  to  his  friends.    But  the  most 


OQ  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  10-15 

CB..P.  m  striking  fact,  in  view  of  subsequent  developments,  is  a  request  for 
1779^  Boswell's  "History  of  Corsica,"  and  any  other  histories  or  memou-s 
relating  to  the  island.  "I  will  bring  them  back  when  I  return,  if  it 
be  six  years  from  now."  He  probably  did  not  remember  that  he 
was  preparing  to  strip  France  of  her  latest  and  highly  cherished  acqui- 
sition at  her  own  cost,  or  if  he  did,  he  must  have  felt  like  the  archer 
pluming  his  arrow  from  the  off-cast  feathers  of  his  victim's  wing.  It 
is  plain  that  his  humihations  at  school,  his  studies  in  the  story  of  Ub- 
erty,  his  inherited  bent,  and  the  present  disappointment,  were  all 
cumulative  in  the  result  of  fixing  his  attention  on  his  native  land  as 
the  destined  sphere  of  his  activity. 

Four  days  after  writing  he  passed  his  examination  a  second  time 
before  the  new  inspector,  announced  his  choice  of  the  artillery  as  his 
branch  of  the  service,  and  a  month  later  was  ordered  to  the  military 
academy  in  Paris.  This  institution  had  not  merely  been  restored  to 
its  former  renown:  it  now  enjoyed  a  special  reputation  as  the  place  of 
reward  to  which  only  the  foremost  candidates  for  official  honors  were 
sent.  The  choice  of  the  artillery  seems  to  have  been  reached  by  a 
simple  process  of  exclusion;  the  infantry  was  too  unintellectual  and 
indolent,  the  cavalry  too  expensive  and  aristocratic;  between  the 
engineers  and  the  artillery  there  was  little  to  choose — in  neither  did 
wealth  or  influence  control  promotion.  The  decision  seems  to  have 
fallen  as  it  did  because  the  artillery  was  accidentally  mentioned  first 
in  the  fatal  letter  he  had  received  announcing  the  family  straits,  and 
the  necessary  renunciation  of  the  navy.  On  the  certificate  which  was 
sent  up  with  Napoleon  from  Brienne  was  the  note:  "Character  master- 
ful, imperious,  and  headstrong." 


CHAPTER  IV 

in  pakis  and  valence 

Inteoduction  to  Pakis — Death  of  Chaeles  de  Buonapakte — Napo- 
leon's PovEKTY — His  Chakactek  at  the  Close  of  His  School 
Yeaes — Appointed  Lieutenant  in  the  Regiment  of  La  Feee — 
Demoealization  of  the  Feench  Army — The  Men  in  the  Ranks 
— Napoleon  as  a  Beau — Retuen  to  Study — His  Peofession  and 
Vocation. 

IT  was  on  October  thirtietli,  1784,  that  Napoleon  went  to  Paris,  He  chap.  iv 
was  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age,  entirely  ignorant  of  what  were  1784-86 
then  called  the  "humanities,"  but  well  trained  in  histoiy,  geogi-aphy, 
and  the  mathematical  sciences.  His  knowledge,  Kke  the  bent  of  his 
mind,  was  practical  rather  than  theoretical,  and  he  knew  more  about 
fortification  and  sieges  than  about  metaphysical  abstractions;  more 
about  the  deeds  of  history  than  about  its  philosophy.  His  defiant  scom 
and  habits  of  solitary  study  grew  stronger  together.  It  is  asserted  that 
his  humor  found  vent  in  a  preposterous  and  peevish  memorial  ad- 
•di-essed  to  the  Minister  of  War  on  the  proper  training  of  the  pupils  in 
French  mihtary  schools !  He  may  have  written  it,  but  it  is  almost  im- 
possible that  it  should  ever  have  passed  beyond  the  walls  of  the  schooh 
even  as  is  claimed,  for  revision  by  a  former  teacher,  Berton.  Never- 
theless he  found  almost,  if  not  altogether,  for  the  first  time  a  real  fi-iend 
in  the  person  of  Des  Mazis,  a  youth  noble  by  birth  and  nature,  who 
was  assigned  to  him  as  a  pupH-teacher,  and  was  moreover  a  foundation 
scholar  like  himself.  It  is  also  declared  by  various  authorities  that 
from  time  to  time  he  enjoyed  the  agreeable  society  of  the  bishop  of 
Autun,  who  was  now  at  Versailles,  of  his  sister  Ehsa  at  Saint-Cyi*,  and, 
toward  the  close,  of  a  family  filend  who  had  just  settled  in  Paris,  the 
beautiful  Mme.  Permon,  mother  of  the  future  duchess  of  Abrantes. 


32 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  15-17 


Chap,  fv  Although  bom  in  Corsica,  she  belonged  to  a  branch  of  the  noble  Greek 
1784^6  family  of  the  Comneni.  In  view  of  the  stringent  regulations  both  of 
the  mihtary  school  and  of  Saint-Cyr,  these  visits  are  problematical, 
though  not  impossible. 

It  was  in  the  city  of  Mme.  Permon's  residence,  at  MontpeUier,  that 
in  the  spring  of  1785  Charles  de  Buonaparte  died.  This  was  apparently 
a  final  and  mortal  blow  to  the  Buonaparte  fortunes,  for  it  seemed  as  if 
with  the  father  must  go  all  the  family  expectations.  The  circum- 
stances were  a  fit  close  to  the  hfe  thus  ended.  Feehng  his  health  some- 
what restored,  and  despamng  of  further  progress  in  the  settlement  of 
his  weU-wom  claim  by  legal  methods,  he  had  determined  on  stiU 
another  joiumey  of  solicitation  to  Versailles.  With  Joseph  as  a  com- 
panion he  started;  but  a  serious  relapse  occurred  at  sea,  and  ashore 
the  painful  disease  continued  to  make  such  ravages  that  the  father  and 
son  set  out  for  Montpelher  to  consult  the  famous  specialists  of  the 
medical  faculty  at  that  place.  It  was  in  vam,*  and,  after  some  weeks, 
on  Febiniary  twenty-fourth  the  heartbroken  father  breathed  his  last. 
Having  learned  to  hate  the  Jesuits,  he  had  become  indifferent  to  all 
rehgion,  and  is  said  by  some  to  have  repelled  with  his  last  exertions  the 
kindly  services  of  Fesch,  who  was  now  a  fi'ocked  priest,  and  had  has- 
tened to  his  brother-in-law's  bedside  to  offer  the  final  consolations  of 
the  Chm'ch  to  a  dying  man.  Others  declare  that  he  turned  again  to  the 
solace  of  rehgion,  and  was  attended  on  his  death-bed  by  the  Abbe 
Coustou.  Failure  as  the  ambitious  schemer  had  been,  he  had  never- 
theless been  so  far  the  support  of  his  family  in  their  hopes  of  advance- 
ment. Sycophant  as  he  had  become,  they  recognized  his  untiring 
energy  in  their  behalf,  and  truly  loved  him.  He  left  them  penniless 
and  ia  debt,  but  he  died  in  their  sei'vice,  and  they  sincerely  mourned 
for  him.  Napoleon's  letter  to  his  mother  is  dignified  and  affectionate, 
refening  in  a  becoming  spu-it  to  the  support  her  children  owed  her. 
As  if  to  show  what  a  thorough  child  he  still  was,  the  dreary  httle  note 
closes  with  an  odd  postscript  giving  the  irrelevant  news  of  the  birth, 
two  days  earher,  of  a  royal  prince — the  duke  of  Normandy !  This  may 
have  been  added  for  the  benefit  of  the  censor  who  examined  aU  the 
correspondence  of  the  young  men. 

Some  time  before,  General  Marbeuf  had  man-ied,  and  the  pecimiary 
supphes  to  his  boy  friend  seem  after  that  event  to  have  stopped. 
Mme.  de  Buonaparte  was  left  with  four  infant  children,  the  youngest, 


DBAWIHO  MADE  FOB  THE  CESOTIBY   CO. 


ZNOBArrD    liT    M,   H.UDEB 


BONAPARTE  ATTACKING    SNOW   FORTS  AT  THE   SCHOOL   OF  BRIENNE 

KROM    THK    l>BAWINO    BY    LOl'lS    I,OKB 


^T.  15-17]  IN    PARIS   AND    VALENCE  33 

Jerome,  but  three  months  old.  Their  gi-eat-imcle,  Lucien,  the  arch-  chap.  rv 
deacon,  was  kind,  and  Joseph,  abandoning  all  his  ambitious,  returned  iim-bo 
to  be,  if  possible,  the  support  of  the  family.  Napoleon's  poverty  was 
no  longer  relative  or  imaginary,  but  real  and  hard.  Drawing  more 
closely  than  ever  within  himself,  he  became  a  still  more  ardent  reader 
and  student,  devoting  himseK  with  passionate  industry  to  examining 
the  works  of  Rousseau,  the  poison  of  whose  pohtical  doctrines  instilled 
itself  with  fiery  and  grateful  stings  into  the  thin,  cold  blood  of  the 
unhappy  cadet.  In  many  respects  the  instruction  he  received  was  ad- 
mirable, and  there  is  a  traditional  anecdote  that  he  was  the  best  mathe- 
matician in  the  school.  But  on  the  whole  he  profited  httlc  by  his 
studies.  The  marvelous  French  style  which  he  finally  created  for  him- 
self is  certainly  unacademic  in  the  highest  degree ;  in  the  many  courses 
of  modern  languages  he  mastered  neither  German  nor  English,  in  fact 
he  never  had  more  than  a  few  words  of  either;  his  attainments  in  fen- 
cing and  horsemanship  were  very  slender.  Among  ah  his  comrades  he 
made  but  one  friend,  while  two  of  them  became  in  later  hfe  his  embit- 
tered foes.  Phehppeaux  thwarted  him  at  Acre  and  Picot  de  Peccadeuc 
became  Schwarzenberg's  most  trusted  adviser  in  the  successful  cam- 
paigns of  Austria  against  France. 

Whether  to  alleviate  as  soon  as  possible  the  miseries  of  his  destitu- 
tion, or,  as  has  been  charged,  to  be  rid  of  their  quenilous  and  exasper- 
ating inmate,  the  authorities  of  the  miUtary  school  shortened  his  stay 
to  the  utmost  of  their  abihty,  and  admitted  Buonaparte  to  examination 
in  August,  1785,  less  than  a  year  from  his  admission.  He  passed  with 
no  distinction,  being  forty-second  in  rank,  but  above  his  friend  Des 
Mazis,  who  was  fifty-sixth.  His  appointment,  therefore,  was  due  to  an 
entire  absence  of  rivahy,  the  yoimg  nobihty  having  no  predilection 
for  the  arduous  duties  of  service  in  the  artillery.  He  was  eligible 
merely  because  he  had  passed  the  legal  age,  and  had- given  evidence 
of  sufficient  acquisitions.  In  an  oft-quoted  description,  pm-porting  to 
be  an  official  certificate  given  to  the  young  officer  on  leavuig,  he  is 
characterized  as  reserved  and  industrious,  preferring  study  to  any  kind 
of  amusement,  dehghting  in  good  authors,  dihgent  in  the  abstract  sci- 
ences, caring  little  for  the  others,  thoroughly  trained  in  mathematics 
and  geography ;  quiet,  fond  of  sohtude,  capricious,  haughty,  extremely 
inclined  to  egotism,  speaking  little,  energetic  in  his  repUes,  prompt  and 
severe  in  repartee ;  having  much  seK-esteem ;  ambitious  and  aspiring 


34 


LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  15-17 


Chap.  TV  to  any  height :  "  the  youth  is  worthy  of  protection,"  There  is,  un- 
n&i-s6  foi-tunately,  no  doeiunentary  evidence  to  sustain  the  genuineness  of 
this  report ;  but  whatever  its  origin,  it  is  so  nearly  contemporary  that 
it  probably  contains  some  tiiith. 

The  two  friends  had  both  asked  for  appointments  in  a  regiment 
stationed  at  Valence,  known  by  the  style  of  La  Fere.  Des  Mazis 
had  a  brother  in  it ;  the  ardent  yoimg  Corsican  would  be  nearer  his 
native  land,  and  might,  perhaps,  be  detached  for  service  in  his  home. 
They  were  both  nominated  in  September,  but  the  appointment  was 
not  made  until  the  close  of  October.  Buonaparte  was  reduced  to  utter 
penury  by  the  long  delay,  his  only  resom-ce  being  the  two  hundred 
hvres  provided  by  the  funds  of  the  school  for  each  of  its  pupils  imtil 
they  reached  the  gi-ade  of  captain.  It  was  probably,  and  according  to 
the  generally  received  account,  at  his  comrade's  expense,  and  in  his 
company,  that  he  traveled.  Their  slender  funds  were  exhausted  by 
boyish  dissipation  at  Lyons,  and  they  measured  the  long  leagues  thence 
to  their  destination  on  foot,  arriving  at  Valence  early  in  November. 

The  gi'owth  of  absolutism  in  Europe  had  been  due  at  the  outset  to 
the  employment  of  standing  armies  by  the  kings,  and  the  consequent 
alliance  between  the  crown,  which  was  the  paymaster,  and  the  people, 
who  furnished  the  soldiery.  There  was  constant  conflict  between  the 
crown  and  the  nobOity  concerning  privilege,  constant  friction  between 
the  nobility  and  the  people  in  the  survivals  of  feudal  relation.  This 
stiu'dy  and  wholesome  contention  among  the  three  estates  ended  at  last 
in  the  victory  of  the  kings.  In  time,  therefore,  the  army  became  no 
longer  a  mere  support  to  the  monarchy,  but  a  portion  of  its  moral 
organism,  sharing  its  virtues  and  its  vices,  its  weakness  and  its 
strength,  reflecting,  as  in  a  mirror,  the  true  condition  of  the  state  so 
far  as  it  was  personified  in  the  king.  The  French  army,  in  the  year 
1785,  was  in  a  sorry  phght.  With  the  consoUdation  of  classes  in  an 
old  monarchical  society,  it  had  come  to  pass  that,  under  the  prevaOing 
voluntary  system,  none  but  men  of  the  lowest  social  stratum  would 
enhst.  Barracks  and  camps  became  the  schools  of  vice.  "  Is  there," 
exclaimed  one  who  at  a  later  day  was  active  in  the  work  of  army 
refonn  —  "is  there  a  father  who  does  not  shudder  when  abandoning 
his  son,  not  to  the  chances  of  war,  but  to  the  associations  of  a  crowd 
of  scoundrels  a  thousand  times  more  dangerous  ?  " 

We  have  already  had  a  glimpse  at  the  character  of  the  officers. 


^T.  15-17]  IN    PARIS  AND  VALENCE 


35 


Their  fii'st  thought  was  position  and  pleasure,  duty  and  the  practice  Chap.  iv 
of  theii-  profession  being  considerations  of  almost  vanishing  inipoi--  ithT-so 
tance.  Things  were  quite  as  bad  in  the  central  administration.  Neither 
the  organization,  nor  the  equipment,  nor  the  commissaiiat,  was  in  con- 
dition to  insure  accuracy  or  promptness  in  the  working  of  the  machine. 
The  regiment  of  La  Fere  was  but  a  sample  of  the  whole.  "  Dancing 
three  times  a  week,"  says  the  advertisement  for  recmits,  "rackets 
tAvice,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  skittles,  prisoners'  base,  and  drill. 
Pleasiu^es  reign,  every  man  has  the  highest  pay,  and  all  are  well 
treated."  Buonaparte's  pay  was  eleven  hundred  and  twenty  livi-es  a 
year;  his  necessary  expenses  for  board  and  lodging  were  seven  hun- 
dred and  twenty,  leaving  less  than  thirty-five  Uatcs,  about  seven  dol- 
lars, a  month  for  clothes  and  pocket-money.  Fifteen  years  as  heuten- 
ant,  fifteen  as  captain,  and,  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  half  pay  with  a 
decoration  —  such  was  the  summary  of  the  prospect  before  the  ordi- 
nary commonplace  officer  in  a  like  situation. 

During  the  first  months  of  his  garrison  service,  Buonaparte,  as  an 
apprentice,  saw  arduous  service  in  matters  of  detail,  but  he  threw  off 
entirely  the  darkness  and  reserve  of  his  character,  taking  a  full  di-aught 
from  the  brimming  cup  of  pleasure.  On  January  tenth,  1786,  he  was 
finally  received  to  full  standing  as  heutenant.  The  novelty,  the  absence 
of  restraint,  the  compai'ative  emancipation  from  the  arrogance  and 
slights  to  which  he  had  hitherto  been  subject,  good  news  from  the  family 
in  Corsica,  whose  hopes  as  to  the  inheritance  were  once  more  high  —  aU 
these  elements  combined  to  intoxicate  for  a  time  the  boy  of  sixteen. 
The  strongest  wiU  cannot  forever  repress  the  exuberance  of  budding 
manhood.  There  were  balls,  and  with  them  the  first  experience  of 
gallantry.  The  young  officer  even  took  dancing-lessons.  Moreover,  in 
the  drawing-rooms  of  the  Abbe  of  Saint-Ruff  and  his  fi-iends,  for  the 
first  time  he  saw  the  manners  and  heard  the  talk  of  refined  society  — 
provincial,  to  be  sui'e,  but  excellent.  It  was  to  the  special  favor  of 
Monseigneur  de  Marbeuf,  the  bishop  of  Autun,  that  he  owed  his 
wai-m  reception.  The  acquaintances  there  made  were  with  persons  of 
local  consequence,  who  in  later  years  reaped  a  rich  harvest  for  then* 
condescension  to  the  young  stranger.  Of  his  feUow-officers  he  saw  but 
httle,  not  because  they  were  distant,  but  because  he  had  no  genius  for 
good-fellowship,  and  the  habit  of  indifference  to  his  comrades  had 
grown  strong  upon  him. 


36 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  15-17 


Chap.  IV  The  period  of  pleasure  was  not  long.     It  is  impossible  to  judge 

n&T-se  whether  the  little  self-indulgence  was  a  weak  relapse  from  an  iron  pur- 
pose or  part  of  a  definite  plan.  The  former  is  more  likely,  so  abrupt 
and  apparently  conscience-stricken  was  the  return  to  labor.  Even  dur- 
ing the  months  from  November  to  April  he  had  not  entirely  deserted 
his  favorite  studies,  and  again  Rousseau  had  been  their  companion  and 
guide.  But  in  the  spring  it  was  the  Abbe  Raynal  of  whom  he  became 
a  devotee.  At  the  first  blush  it  seems  as  if  Buonaparte's  studies  were 
iiTegtdar  and  haphazard.  It  is  customary  to  attribute  slender  powers 
of  observation  and  undefined  purposes  to  childhood  and  youth.  The 
opinion  may  be  correct  in  the  main,  and  would,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
be  true  as  regards  the  great  mass  of  adults.  But  the  more  we  know  of 
psychology  through  autobiographies,  the  more  certain  it  appears  that 
many  a  great  life-plan  has  been  formed  in  childhood,  and  carried 
through  with  unbending  rigor  to  the  end.  Whether  Buonaparte  con- 
sciously ordered  the  course  of  his  study  and  reading  or  not,  there  is 
imity  in  it  from  first  to  last. 

After  the  first  loide  beginnings  there  were  two  nearly  parallel  hnes 
in  his  work.  The  fii-st  was  the  acquisition  of  what  was  essential  to  the 
practice  of  a  profession  —  nothing  more.  No  one  could  be  a  soldier  in 
either  army  or  navy  without  a  practical  knowledge  of  history  and  geog- 
raphy, for  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants  are  in  a  special  sense  the  ele- 
ments of  military  activity.  Nor  can  towns  be  fortified,  nor  camps  in- 
trenched, nor  any  of  the  manifold  duties  of  the  general  in  the  field  be 
performed  without  the  science  of  quantity  and  numbers.  Just  these 
things,  and  just  so  far  as  they  were  practical,  the  dark,  ambitious  boy 
was  willing  to  learn.  For  spelling,  grammar,  rhetoric,  and  philosophy 
he  had  no  care;  neither  he  nor  his  sister  Ehsa,  the  two  strong  natures 
of  the  family,  could  ever  spell  any  language  with  accuracy  and  ease,  or 
speak  and  write  with  rhetorical  elegance.  Among  the  private  papers 
of  his  youth  there  is  but  one  mathematical  study  of  any  importance ; 
the  rest  are  either  trivial,  or  have  some  practical  bearing  on  the  prob- 
lems of  gunnery.  When  at  Brienne,  his  patron  had  certified  that  he 
cared  nothing  for  accomplishments  and  had  none.  This  was  the  case 
to  the  end.  But  there  was  another  branch  of  knowledge  equally 
practical,  but  at  that  time  necessary  to  so  few  that  it  was  neither 
taught  nor  learned  ia  the  schools  — the  art  of  politics. 


..^..,r....r..m-I^^^g»/vnllk,/M 


^^      tmm/////////y^y/^^''< 


III    r  I  n 


DUAWINU    MAUK    KnK    THK    •  t    - 


ICNtiaAVKn    BT    U.   HAIMKH 


BONAPARTE  AT  THE   MILITARY   SCHOOL,   PARIS,    1 784 


THK     DRAWINU     HV   ANI»K*     CAKTAIONK 


CHAPTER  V 

pkivate  study  and  gaerison  lite 

Napoleon  as  a  Student  of  Politics — Nature  of  Rousseau's  Po- 
litical Teachings — The  Abbe  Raynal — Napoleon  Aspires  to 
BE  the  Historian  of  Corsica — Napoleon's  First  Loye — His 
Notions  of  Political  Science — The  Books  He  Read — Napoleon 
AT  Lyons — His  Transfer  to  Douay — A  Victim  to  Melancholy — 
Return  to  Corsica. 

IN  one  sense  it  is  true  that  the  first  Emperor  of  the  French  was  a  chap.  v 
man  of  no  age  and  of  no  country;  in  another  sense  he  was,  as  few  1786^7 
have  been,  the  child  of  his  surroundings  and  of  his  time.  The  study  of 
pohtics  was  his  own  notion;  the  matter  and  method  of  the  study  were 
conditioned  hy  his  relations  to  the  thought  of  Europe  in  the  last  cen- 
tury. He  evidently  hoped  that  his  military  and  pohtical  attainments 
would  one  day  meet  in  the  culmination  of  a  grand  career.  Those  years 
of  his  life  which  appear  like  a  reahzati©n  of  the  plan  were,  in  fact,  the 
least  successful.  The  unsoundness  of  his  political  instnictors,  and  the 
temper  of  the  age,  combined  to  thwart  this  ambitious  piu'pose. 

Rousseau  had  every  fascination  for  the  young  at  that  time — a 
captivating  style,  persuasive  logic,  the  sentiment  of  a  poet,  the  inten- 
sity of  a  prophet.  A  native  of  Corsica  would  he  doubly  drawn  to  him 
by  his  interest  in  that  romantic  island.  Sitting  at  the  feet  of  such 
a  teacher,  a  yoimg  scholar  would  learn  through  convincing  argument 
the  evils  of  a  passing  social  state  as  they  were  not  exhibited  elsewhere. 
He  would  discern  the  dangers  of  ecclesiastical  authority,  of  feudal 
privilege,  of  absolute  monarchy;  he  would  see  theii*  disastrous  uiflu- 
ence  in  the  prostitution,  not  only  of  social,  but  of  personal  morality;  he 
would  become  famihar  with  the  necessity  for  renewing  institutions  as 
the  only  means  of  regenerating  society.     AU  these  lessons  would  have 

37 


38 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  17-18 


Chap.  V  a  value  not  to  be  exaggerated.  On  the  other  hand,  when  it  came  to  the 
i78&^-  substitution  of  positive  teaching  for  negative  criticism,  he  would  learn 
nothing  of  value  and  much  that  was  most  dangerous.  In  utter  dis- 
regard of  a  sound  historical  method  there  was  set  up  as  the  corner- 
stone of  the  new  pohtical  structm^e  a  fiction  of  the  most  dangerous 
kind.  Buonaparte  in  his  notes,  written  as  he  read,  shows  his  contempt 
for  it  in  an  admu-able  refutation  of  the  fundamental  error  of  Eousseau 
as  to  the  state  of  natm-e  by  this  remark:  "I  beheve  man  in  the  state  of 
natm-e  had  the  same  power  of  sensation  and  reason  which  he  now  has." 
But  if  he  did  not  accept  the  premises,  there  was  a  portion  of  the  con- 
clusion which  he  took  with  avidity,  the  most  dangerous  point  in  all 
Rousseau's  system;  namely,  the  doctrine  that  all  power  proceeds  from 
the  people,  not  because  of  their  natm-e  and  their  historical  organization 
into  famihes  and  commimities,  but  because  of  an  agi'eement  by  individ- 
uals to  secure  pubhc  order,  and  that,  consequently,  the  consent  given 
they  can  withdi-aw,  the  order  they  have  created  they  can  destroy.  In 
this  lay  not  merely  the  germ,  but  the  whole  system  of  extreme  radical- 
ism, the  essence,  the  substance,  and  the  sum  of  the  French  Revolution 
on  its  extreme  and  doctidnaire  side. 

Rousseau  had  been  the  prophet  and  forerunner  of  the  new  social 
dispensation.  The  scheme  for  applying  its  principles  is  found  in  a 
work  which  bears  the  name  of  a  very  mediocre  person,  the  Abbe  Ray- 
nal,  a  man  who  enjoyed  in  his  day  an  extended  and  splendid  reputation 
which  now  seems  to  have  had  only  the  slender  foundations  of  unmer- 
ited persecution  and  the  friendship  of  superior  men.  In  1770  appeared 
anonymously  a  volume  of  which,  as  was  widely  known,  he  was  the  com- 
piler. "  The  Philosophical  and  Pohtical  History  of  the  EstabHshments 
and  Commerce  of  the  Em'opeans  in  the  Two  Indies  "  is  a  miscellany  of 
extracts  fi-om  many  sources,  and  of  short  essays  by  Raynal's  briUiant 
acquaintances,  on  superstition,  tyranny,  and  similar  themes.  The  re- 
puted author  had  written  for  the  pubhc  prints,  and  had  pubhshed  sev- 
eral works,  none  of  which  attracted  attention.  The  amazing  success  of 
this  one  was  not  remarkable  if,  as  the  critics  now  beheve,  at  least  a 
thu'd  of  the  text  was  by  Diderot.  The  position  of  Raynal  as  a  man  of 
letters  immediately  became  a  foremost  one,  and  such  was  the  vogue  of  a 
second  edition  pubhshed  over  his  name  in  1780  that  the  authorities  be- 
came alarmed.  The  climax  to  his  renown  was  achieved  when,  in  1781, 
his  book  was  pubhcly  burned,  and  the  compiler  fled  into  exUe. 


^T.  17-18]  PRIVATE    STUDY    AND  GARRISON    LIFE  39 

The  storm  had  finally  subsided,  he  had  returned  to  France  in  1785,     chap.  v 
and  through  the  friendship  of  Mine,  du  Colombier,  a  patroness  of  the      1786-87 
young  heutenant,  communication  was  opened  between  the  great  man 
and  his  aspmng  reader.     "  Not  yet  eighteen,"  are  the  startling  words  in 
the  letter  written  by  Buonaparte,  "  I  am  a  writer :  it  is  the  age  when 
we  must  learn.     WiU  my  boldness  subject  me  to  your  railleiy  ?    No ;  I 
am  sure.     If  indulgence  be  a  mark  of  true  genius,  you  should  have 
much  indulgence.     I  inclose  chapters  one  and  two  of  a  history  of  Cor- 
sica, with  an  outhne  of  the  rest.     K  you  approve,  I  will  go  on ;  if  you 
advise  me  to  stop,  I  will  go  no  fiu'ther."    The  young  historian's  letter 
teems  with  bad  spelling  and  bad  gi-ammar,  but  it  is  saturated  with 
the  spmt  of  his  age.     The  chapters  as  they  came  to  Raynal's  hands 
are  not  in  existence  so  far  as  is  known,  and  posterity  can  never  judge 
how  monumental  their  author's  assui'ance  was.     The  abbe's  reply  was 
kindly,  but  he  advised  the  novice  to  complete  his  researches,  and  then 
to  rewi'ite  his  pieces.    Buonaparte  was  not  unwiUing  to  profit  by  the 
counsels  he  received :  soon  after,  in  July,  1786,  he  gave  two  orders  to  a 
Genevese  bookseller,  one  for  books  concerning  Corsica,  another  for  the 
memou's  of  Mme.  de  Warens  and  her  servant  Claude  Anet,  which  are 
a  sort  of  supplement  to  Rousseau's  "  Confessions." 

During  May  of  the  same  year  he  jotted  down  with  considerable  full- 
ness his  notions  of  the  true  relations  between  Chui'ch  and  State.  He 
had  been  reading  Roustan's  reply  to  Rousseau,  and  was  evidently  over- 
powered with  the  necessity  of  subordinating  ecclesiastical  to  secular 
authority.  The  paper  is  inide  and  incomplete,  but  it  shows  whence  he 
derived  his  poUcy  of  dealing  with  the  Pope  and  the  Roman  Church  in 
France.  It  has  very  unjustly  been  called  an  attempted  refutation  of 
Chi'istianity :  it  is  nothing  of  the  sort.  Ecclesiasticism  and  Chi'istian- 
ity  being  hopelessly  confused  in  his  mind,  he  uses  the  teims  inter- 
changeably in  an  academic  and  polemic  discussion  to  prove  that  the 
theory  of  the  social  contract  must  destroy  aU  ecclesiastical  assumption 
of  supreme  power  in  the  state. 

Some  of  the  lagging  days  were  not  only  spent  in  novel-reading,  as 
the  Emperor  in  after  years  confessed  to  Mme.  de  Remusat,  but  in 
attempts  at  novel-writing,  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  idle  hours.  It  is 
said  that  first  and  last  Buonaparte  read  "  Werther  "  five  times  tlu-ough. 
Enough  remains  among  his  boyish  scribbhngs  to  show  how  fantastic 
were  the  di'eams  both  of  love  and  of  glory  in  which  he  indulged. 


40 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  17-18 


Chap.  V  Many  entertain  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  amid  the  gaieties  of  the  winter 
1786^87  he  lost  his  heart,  or  thonglit  he  did,  and  was  repulsed.  At  least,  in  his 
"  Dialogue  on  Love,"  written  five  years  later,  he  says,  "  I,  too,  was 
once  in  love,"  and  proceeds,  after  a  few  hnes,  to  decry  the  sentiment  as 
harmful  to  mankind,  a  something  from  which  God  would  do  weU  to 
emancipate  it.  There  seems  to  have  been  in  the  interval  no  oppor- 
tunity for  philandering  so  good  as  the  one  he  had  enjoyed  during  his 
boyish  acquaintance  with  MUe.  Caroline  du  Colombier.  It  has,  at  all 
events,  been  her  good  fortune  to  secure,  by  this  supposition,  a  place  in 
history,  not  merely  as  the  first  girl  friend  of  Napoleon,  but  as  the 
object  of  his  first  passion. 

But  these  were  his  avocations ;  the  real  occupation  of  his  time  was 
study.  Besides  reading  again  the  chief  works  of  Rousseau,  and  de- 
voming  those  of  Raynal,  his  most  beloved  author,  he  also  read  much 
in  the  works  of  Voltaire,  of  Filangieri,  of  Necker,  and  of  Adam  Smith. 
With  note-book  and  pencil  he  extracted,  annotated,  and  criticized,  his 
mind  alert  and  every  faculty  bent  to  the  clear  apprehension  of  the  sub- 
ject in  hand.  To  the  conception  of  the  state  as  a  private  corporation, 
which  he  had  imbibed  from  Rousseau,  was  now  added  the  convic- 
tion that  the  institutions  of  France  were  no  longer  adapted  to  the 
occupations,  behefs,  or  morals  of  her  people,  and  that  revolution  was  a 
necessity.  To  judge  from  a  memoir,  presented  some  years  later  to  the 
Lyons  Academy,  he  must  have  absorbed  the  teachings  of  the  "  Two 
Indies"  almost  entire. 

The  consuming  zeal  for  studies  on  the  part  of  this  incomprehensible 
youth  is  probably  unparalleled.  Having  read  Plutarch  in  his  child- 
hood, he  now  devom-ed  Herodotus,  Strabo,  and  Diodorus;  China, 
Arabia,  and  the  Indies  dazzled  his  imagination,  and  what  he  coidd  lay 
hands  upon  concerning  the  East  was  soon  assimilated.  England  and 
Germany  next  engaged  his  attention,  and  toward  the  close  of  his 
studies  he  became  ardent  in  examiniug  the  minutest  particulars  of 
French  history.  It  was,  moreover,  the  science  of  history,  and  not 
its  hterature,  which  occupied  him  —  dry  details  of  revenue,  resources, 
and  institutions ;  the  Sorbonne,  the  buU  Unigenitus,  and  church  his- 
tory in  general ;  the  character  of  peoples,  the  origin  of  institutions,  the 
philosophy  of  legislation — aU  these  he  studied,  and,  if  the  fragments 
of  his  notes  be  trustworthy  evidence,  as  they  surely  are,  with  some 
thoroughness.     He  also  found  time  to  read  the  masterpieces  of  French 


5.     ~  (y 


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lllli;ilulll;lllllllllll||IIIHIillllNlllllim"l, 


^T.  17-18]  PRIVATE    STUDY    AND    GARRISON    LIFE  41 

literature,  and  the  great  critical  judgments  which  had  been  passed     chap.  v 
upon  them.  nse-s? 

The  agreeable  and  studious  Hfe  at  Valence  was  soon  ended.  Early 
in  August,  1786,  a  httle  rebeUion,  known  as  the  "Two-cent  Revolt," 
broke  out  in  Lyons  over  an  attempt  to  reassert  an  ancient  feudal  right 
concerning  the  sale  of  wine  which  had  long  been  in  abeyance.  The 
neighboring  garrisons  were  ordered  to  fimiish  their  respective  quotas 
for  its  suppression.  Buonaparte's  company  was  sent  among  others, 
but  the  disturbance  was  already  quelled  when  he  arrived,  and  the 
days  he  spent  at  Lyons  were  so  agreeable  that,  as  he  wrote  his  uncle 
Fesch,  he  left  the  city  with  regret  "to  follow  his  destiny."  His  regi- 
ment had  been  ordered  northward  to  Douay  in  Flanders ;  he  rejoined 
it  and  reached  that  city  about  the  middle  of  October. 

The  time  spent  under  the  inclement  skies  of  the  north  must  have 
been  dreary  if  he  regularly  received  news  from  home.  Utterly  without 
success  in  finding  occupation  in  Corsica,  and  hopeless  as  to  France, 
Joseph  had  some  time  before  turned  his  eyes  toward  Tuscany  for  a 
possible  career.  He  was  now  about  to  make  a  final  effort,  and  seek  per- 
sonally at  the  Tuscan  capital  employment  of  any  kind  that  might  offer. 
Lucien,  the  archdeacon,  was  seriously  ill,  and  General  Marbeur,  the 
last  influential  friend  of  the  family,  had  died.  Louis  had  been  prom- 
ised a  scholarship  in  one  of  the  royal  artillery  schools;  deprived  of  his 
patron,  he  would  probably  lose  the  appointment.  Finally,  the  pecu- 
niary affau's  of  Mme.  de  Buonaparte  were  again  entangled,  and  now 
appeared  hopeless.  She  had  for  a  time  been  receiving  an  annual  state 
bounty  for  raising  mulberry-trees,  as  France  was  introducing  silk  cul- 
ture into  the  island.  The  inspectors  had  condemned  this  year's  work, 
and  were  withholding  the  allowance.  These  were  the  facts ;  it  was 
doubtless  a  knowledge  of  them  which  put  an  end  to  all  Napoleon's 
study,  historical  or  pohtical.  He  immediately  applied  for  leave  of 
absence,  that  he  might  instantly  set  out  to  his  mother's  rehef.  His 
request  was  refused.     No  leave  could  be  obtained  until  January. 

Despondent  and  anxious,  he  moped,  grew  miserable,  and  contracted 
a  sUght  malarial  fever  which  for  the  next  six  or  seven  years  never 
entirely  relaxed  its  hold  on  him.  Among  his  papers  has  recently  been 
found  a  long,  wild,  pessimistic  rhapsody,  in  which  there  is  talk  of 
suicide.  The  plaint  is  of  the  degeneracy  among  men,  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  primitive  simphcity  in  Corsica  by  the  French  occupation,  of  his 


42 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  17-18 


Chap.  V  own  isolation,  and  of  his  yearning  to  see  Ms  friends  once  more.  Life 
1786^7  is  no  longer  worth  while;  his  country  gone,  a  patriot  has  naught  to  hve 
for,  especially  when  he  has  no  pleasiu-e  and  all  is  pain — when  the  char- 
acter of  those  ahout  him  is  to  his  own  as  moonhght  is  to  suiilight.  If 
there  were  but  a  single  life  in  his  way,  he  would  bury  the  avenging 
blade  of  his  coimtry  and  her  violated  laws  in  the  bosom  of  the  tyrant. 
Some  of  his  complaining  was  even  less  coherent  than  this.  It  is  absurd 
to  take  the  morbid  outpouring  seriously,  except  in  so  far  as  it  goes  to 
prove  that  its  writer  was  a  victim  of  the  sentimental  egoism  into 
which  the  psychological  studies  of  the  eighteenth  century  had  degen- 
erated, and  to  suggest  that  possibly  if  he  had  not  been  Napoleon  he 
might  have  been  a  Werther.  Though  dated  May  third,  no  year  is 
given,  and  it  may  well  describe  the  writer's  feelings  in  the  despondency 
of  this  winter.  No  such  state  of  mind  was  hkely  to  have  arisen  in  the 
preceding  spring. 

The  slow  weeks  finally  passed;  on  February  first,  1787,  the  leave 
began.  Travehng  by  way  of  Valence  and  Marseilles,  he  visited  in  the 
former  city  his  old  friend  the  Abbe  of  Saint-Ruff,  to  sohcit  his  favor 
for  Lucien,  who,  though  at  Brienne,  would  study  nothing  but  the 
humanities,  and  was  determined  to  enter  the  seminary  at  Aix  and  to 
become  a  priest.  At  Marseilles  he  paid  his  respects  to  the  Abbe 
Raynal,  no  doubt  requesting  advice,  and  seeking  further  encourage- 
ment in  his  historical  labors.  Thence  he  sailed  to  Ajaccio,  aniving,  if 
the  ordinary  time  had  been  consumed  in  the  joimiey,  toward  the  close 
of  the  month.  Such  appears  to  be  the  likehest  account  of  this  period, 
although  our  knowledge  is  not  complete.  In  the  archives  of  Douay 
there  is,  according  to  the  local  historian,  a  record  of  Buonaparte's  pres- 
ence in  that  city  with  the  regiment  La  Fere,  and  he  himself  declared 
at  Elba  that  he  had  been  sent  thither.  But  in  the  brief  note  made  in 
youth  by  his  own  hand,  and  entitled  "  Epochs  of  My  Life,"  he  wrote 
that  he  left  Valence  on  September  first,  1786,  for  Ajaccio,  arriving 
on  the  fifteenth.  Weighing  the  probabihties,  it  seems  likely  that  the 
latter  was  untrue,  since  there  is  but  the  slenderest  possibility  of  his 
having  been  at  Douay  in  the  following  year,  the  only  other  hypothesis, 
and  no  record  of  his  activities  in  Corsica  before  the  spring  of  1787. 


1 


la   THE   COU-KCTION    iff    M.   C.   MAKgUW    1>K   LAS   CAS. 


ENOItAVriJ    llV    T,   JOUNSON 


NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 

LIEUTENANT   OF   ARTILLERY 


rKoM    TIIK    I'AIXTINU    BV    JKAN-HAPTISTE   ORRtTZB 


CHAPTER  VI 


rUKTHEK  ATTEMPTS   AT  AUTHORSHIP 


Straits  of  the  Bonaparte  Family — Napoleon's  Efforts  to  Relieve 
Them — His  History  and  Short  Stories — Visit  to  Paris  — 
Secures  Extension  of  His  Leave — The  Family  Fortunes  Des- 
perate— The  History  of  Corsica  Completed — Its  Style,  Opin- 
ions, AND  Value — Failure  to  Find  a  Publisher — Sentevients 
Expressed  in  His  Short  Stories — Napoleon's  Irregularities  as 
a  French  Officer — His  Vain  Appeal  to  Paoli — The  History 
Dedicated  to  Necker. 

WHEN  Napoleon  arrived  at  Ajaccio,  and,  after  an  absence  of  eight  chap.  vi 
years,  found  himself  again  with  his  family,  their  affaii's  were  in  a  1787-89 
serious  condition.  Not  one  of  the  old  French  officials  remained;  the  dip- 
lomatic leniency  of  the  first  occupation  was  giving  place  to  the  official 
stringency  of  a  firmer  administration ;  proportionately  the  disaifection 
of  the  patriot  remnant  among  the  people  was  slowly  developing  into 
a  wide-spread  discontent.  Joseph,  the  hereditary  head  of  a  family 
which  had  been  thoroughly  French  in  conduct,  and  was  supposed  to  be 
so  in  sentiment,  which  at  least  looked  to  the  King  for  further  favors, 
was  stiU  a  stanch  royahst.  Having  been  unsuccessful  in  every  other 
dh'ection,  he  was  now  seeking  to  estabhsh  a  mercantile  connection  with 
Florence  which  would  enable  him  to  engage  in  the  oil-trade.  The 
modest  beginning  was,  he  hoped,  about  to  be  made.  It  was  high  time, 
for  the  only  support  of  his  mother  and  her  children,  in  the  failm'e  of 
her  mulberry  plantations,  was  the  income  of  the  old  archdeacon,  who 
was  now  confined  to  his  room,  and  growing  feebler  every  day  under 
attacks  of  gout.  Unfortunately,  Joseph's  well-meant  efforts  again 
came  to  naught. 

The  behavior  of  the  pale,  feverish,  masterful  young  lieutenant  was 


44 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 


[^T.  18-20 


Chap.  VI 

1787-89 


far  fi'om  praiseworthy.  He  filled  the  house  with  his  new-fangled  phi- 
losophy, and  assumed  a  self-important  air.  Among  the  letters  which 
he  wrote  was  one  dated  April  fii'st,  1787,  to  the  renowned  Dr.  Tissot  of 
Lausanne,  refemng  to  his  con-espondent's  interest  in  Paoli,  and  asking 
ad\dce  concerning  the  treatment  of  the  canon's  gout.  The  physician 
never  rephed,  and  the  epistle  was  found  among  his  papers  marked  "un- 
answered and  of  httle  interest."  The  old  ecclesiastic  hstened  to  his 
nephew's  patriotic  tirades,  and  even  approved;  Mme.  de  Buonaparte 
coldly  disapproved.  She  would  have  preferred  calmer,  more  efficient 
common  sense.  Not  that  her  son  was  inactive  in  her  behalf;  on  the 
contrary,  he  began  a  series  of  busy  representations  to  the  provincial 
officials  which  secured  some  good  will  and  even  trifling  favor  to  the 
family.  But  the  results  were  not  conclusive,  for  the  mulberry  money 
was  not  paid. 

As  the  time  for  return  to  service  drew  near,  he  apphed,  on  the 
groimd  of  ill  health,  for  a  renewal  of  leave  to  last  five  and  a  half 
months.  It  was  granted,  and  the  regular  round  of  family  cares  went 
on ;  but  the  days  and  weeks  brought  no  rehef .  Ill  health  there  was, 
and  perhaps  sufficient  to  justify  that  plea,  but  the  physical  fever  was 
intensified  by  the  checks  which  want  set  upon  ambition.  The  passion 
for  authorship  reasserted  itself  with  undiminished  violence.  The  his- 
tory of  Corsica  was  resumed,  recast,  and  vigorously  continued,  while  at 
the  same  time  the  writer  completed  a  short  story  entitled  "The  Count 
of  Essex," — with  an  English  setting,  of  course, — and  wrote  a  Corsican 
novel.  The  latter  abounds  in  bitterness  against  France,  the  most 
potent  force  in  the  development  of  the  plot  being  the  dagger.  The 
author's  use  of  French,  though  easier,  is  stiU  very  imperfect.  A  sHght 
essay,  or  rather  story,  in  the  style  of  Voltaire,  entitled  "The  Masked 
Prophet,"  was  also  completed. 

It  was  reported  early  in  the  autumn  that  many  regiments  were  to  be 
mobihzed  for  special  service,  among  them  that  of  La  Fere.  This  gave 
Napoleon  exactly  the  opening  he  desired,  and  he  left  Corsica  at  once, 
without  reference  to  the  end  of  his  furlough.  He  reached  Paris  in  Oc- 
tober, a  fortnight  before  he  was  due,  to  find  his  regiment  near  by  at  St. 
Denis,  on  its  way  to  the  west,  where  incipient  tumults  were  presaging 
the  coming  storm.  The  Estates-General  of  France  were  about  to  meet 
for  the  first  time  in  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  years;  they  had  last 
met  in  1614,  and  had  broken  up  in  disorder.     They  were  now  called  as 


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GO 


^T.  18-20]  FURTHER   ATTEMPTS    AT    AUTHORSHIP  45 

a  last  remedy,  not  understood,  but  at  least  untried,  for  ever-increasing    chap.  vi 
embarrassments;  and  the  government,  fearing  still  greater  disorders,      i787-«9 
was  making  ready  to  repress  any  that  might  break  out  in  districts 
known  to  be  specially  disaffected.     All  this  was  of  secondary  impor- 
tance to  Buonaparte;  he  had  a  scheme  to  use  the  crisis  for  the  benefit  , 
of  his  family.     Compelled  by  their  utter  destitution  at  the  time  of  his 
father's  death,  he  had  temporarily  and  for  one  occasion  assimied  his 
father's  role  of  supphant.     Now  for  a  second  time  he  sent  in  a  petition. 
It  was  written  in  Paris  and  addressed,  in  his  mother's  behalf,  to  the 
intendant  for  Corsica  resident  at  the  capital.    Though  a  supplication  in 
form,  it  is  unlike  his  father's  humble  and  almost  cringing  papers,  bemg 
rather  a  demand  than  a  request;  it  is  unlike  them  in  another  respect  in 
that  it  contains  a  falsehood,  or  at  least  an  utterly  misleading  half-truth : 
a  statement  that  he  had  shortened  his  leave  because  of  his  mother's 
urgent  necessities. 

The  paper  was  not  handed  in  until  after  the  expiration  of  his  leave, 
and  his  true  object  was  not  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  as  was  hinted  in  it, 
but  to  secure  a  second  extension  of  leave.  Such  was  the  slackness  of 
discipline  that  he  spent  all  of  November  and  the  first  haK  of  December 
in  Paris,  remaining  in  that  city  until  he  actually  succeeded  in  procur- 
ing permission  to  spend  the  next  six  months  in  Corsica.  He  was  quite 
as  disingenuous  in  his  request  to  the  Minister  of  War  as  in  his  memo- 
rial to  the  intendant  for  Corsica,  representing  that  the  estates  of 
Corsica  were  about  to  meet,  and  that  his  presence  was  essential  to 
safeguard  important  interests  which  in  his  absence  would  be  seriously 
compromised.  Whatever  such  a  plea  may  have  meant,  his  serious  cares 
as  the  real  head  of  the  family  were  ever  uppermost,  and  never  neg- 
lected. Louis  had,  as  was  feared,  lost  his  appointment,  and  though 
not  past  the  legal  age,  was  really  too  old  to  await  another  vacancy; 
Lucien  was  determined  to  leave  Brienne  in  any  case,  and  to  await  at 
Aix  the  first  chance  which  might  arise  of  entering  the  seminary.  Napo- 
leon made  some  provision — what  it  was  is  not  known — for  Louis's 
further  temporary  stay  at  Brienne,  and  then  took  Lucien  with  him  as 
far  as  their  route  lay  together.  He  reached  his  home  again  on  the 
first  of  January,  1788. 

The  affairs  of  the  family  were  at  last  utterly  desperate,  and  were 
hkely,  moreover,  to  grow  worse  before  they  grew  better.  The  old  arch- 
deacon was  faihng  daily,  and,  although  known  to  have  means,  declared 


4G 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  18-20 


Chap.  VI  Mmself  destitute  of  ready  money.  With  his  death  would  disappear  a 
1787-89  portion  of  his  income;  his  patrimony  and  savings,  which  the  Buona- 
partes hoped  of  course  to  inherit,  were  an  uncertain  quantity,  probably 
insutficient  for  the  needs  of  such  a  family.  The  mulberry  money  was 
still  impaid;  all  hope  of  wresting  the  ancestral  estates  fi-om  the  govern- 
ment authorities  was  buried;  Joseph  was  without  employment,  and,  as 
a  last  expechent,  was  studjang  in  Pisa  for  admission  to  the  bar.  Louis 
and  Lucien  were  each  a  heavy  charge;  Napoleon's  income  was  insuf- 
ficient even  for  his  own  modest  wants,  regulated  though  they  were  by 
the  strictest  economy.  Who  shall  cast  a  stone  at  the  shiftiness  of  a 
boy  not  yet  nineteen,  charged  with  such  cares,  yet  consumed  with  am- 
bition, and  saturated  with  the  romantic  sentimentaUsm  of  his  times'? 
Some  notion  of  his  embaiTassment  and  despair  can  be  obtained  from  a 
rapid  survey  of  his  mental  states  and  the  corresponding  facts.  An 
ardent  repubhcan  and  revolutionary,  he  was  tied  by  the  strongest  bonds 
to  the  most  despotic  monarchy  in  Em-ope.  A  patriotic  Corsican,  he 
was  the  servant  of  his  country's  oppressor.  Conscious  of  great  abihty, 
he  was  seeking  an  outlet  in  the  pursuit  of  hterature,  a  line  of  work 
entirely  unsuited  to  his  powers.  The  head  and  support  of  a  large 
family,  he  was  almost  penniless ;  if  he  should  follow  his  convictions, 
he  and  they  might  be  altogether  so.  In  the  period  of  choice  and 
requiiing  room  for  experiment,  he  saw  himself  doomed  to  a  fixed, 
inglorious  career,  and  caged  in  a  fi-amework  of  unpropitious  cii'cum- 
stance.  Whatever  the  moral  obhquity  in  his  feeble  expedients,  there  is 
the  pathos  of  human  limitations  in  theu*  character. 

Whether  the  resolution  had  long  bef  oi-e  been  taken,  or  was  of  recent 
formation,  Napoleon  now  intended  to  make  fame  and  profit  go  hand  in 
hand.  Returned  to  Ajaccio,  the  meeting  of  the  Corsican  estates  was 
forgotten,  and  authorship  was  resumed,  not  merely  with  the  ardor  of 
one  who  writes  from  inclination,  but  with  the  regular  drudgery  of  a 
craftsman.  The  amusements  of  his  leisure  hours  would  have  been  suf- 
ficient occupation  for  most  men.  Regulating,  as  far  as  possible,  his 
mother's  comphcated  affaks,  he  jommeyed  frequently  to  Bastia,  proba- 
bly to  collect  money  due  for  young  miilberry-trees  which  had  been  sold, 
possibly  to  get  material  for  his  history.  He  also  completed  a  plan  for 
the  defense  of  St.  Florent,  of  La  Mortilla,  and  of  the  Gulf  of  Ajaccio ; 
drew  up  a  report  on  the  organization  of  the  Corsican  militia;  and 
wrote  a  paper  on  the  strategic  importance  of  the  Madeleine  Islands. 


I 


« 


1>RAW1N0    Made    KoK    tub    century    CO.    FROU    a    portrait    in    the    chateau     COLOStBIER 

MLLE.  DU   COLOMBIER 
napoleon's  first  love 

FROM    TBR    DIU.V1NU    BT    ERIC    PAFE 


^T.  18-20]  FURTHER    ATTEMPTS    AT    AUTHORSHIP  47 

This  was  his  play ;  his  work  was  the  histoiy  of  Corsica.     It  was  com-     Chai-.  vi 
pleted  sooner  than  he  had  expected,  and,  anxious  to  reap  the  pecuniary      1787-89 
harvest  of  his  labors,  he  left  for  France  in  the  early  part  of  May  to 
secure  its  pubhcation.      Although  dedicated  at  first  to  a  powerful 
patron,  Monseigneui"  Marbeuf,  then  bishop  of  Sens,  Hke  many  works 
fi'om  the  pen  of  genius  it  is  still  in  manuscript. 

The  book  was  of  moderate  size,  and  of  moderate  merit.  Its  form, 
repeatedly  changed  from  motives  of  expediency,  was  at  fbrst  that  of  let- 
ters addressed  to  the  Abbe  Raynal ;  its  contents  display  httle  research 
and  no  scholarship.  The  style  is  intended  to  be  popular,  and  is  dra- 
matic rather  than  naiTative.  There  is  exhibited,  as  everywhere  in 
these  early  writings,  an  intense  hatred  of  France,  a  glowing  affection 
for  Corsica  and  her  heroes.  A  very  short  account  of  one  chapter  wiU 
sufficiently  characterize  the  whole  work.  Having  outhned  in  perhaps 
the  most  effective  passage  the  career  of  Sampiero,  and  sketched  his 
diplomatic  failures  at  all  the  Eiu'opean  courts  except  that  of  Constanti- 
nople, where  at  last  he  had  secured  sjTnpathy  and  was  promised  aid, 
the  author  depicts  the  patriot's  bitterness  when  recalled  by  the  news 
of  his  wife's  treachery.  Confronting  his  guilty  spouse,  deaf  to  every 
plea  for  pity,  hardened  against  the  tender  caresses  of  his  children,  the 
Corsican  hero  utters  judgment.  "Madam,"  he  sternly  says,  "in  the 
face  of  crime  and  disgi'ace,  there  is  no  other  resort  but  death."  Van- 
Tiina  at  fii'st  falls  unconscious,  but,  regaining  her  senses,  she  recalls  the 
memory  of  her  earher  virtue,  and,  facing  her  fate,  begs  as  a  last  favor 
that  no  base  executioner  shall  lay  his  soiled  hands  on  the  wife  of  Sam- 
piero, but  that  he  himself  shall  execute  the  sentence.  Vannina's  be- 
havior moves  her  husband,  but  does  not  touch  his  heart.  "  The  pity 
and  tenderness,"  says  Buonaparte,  "which  she  should  have  awakened 
found  a  soul  thenceforward  closed  to  the  power  of  sentiment.  Vannuia 
died.     She  died  by  the  hands  of  Sampiero." 

Neither  the  pubKshers  of  Valence,  nor  those  of  Dole,  nor  those  of 
Auxonne,  would  accept  the  work.  At  Paris  one  was  finally  foimd  who 
was  willing  to  take  a  half  risk.  The  author,  disillusioned  but  sanguine, 
was  on  the  point  of  accepting  the  proposition,  and  was  occupied  with 
consideriag  ways  and  means,  when  the  Bishop  of  Sens  was  suddenly 
disgraced.  The  manuscript  was  immediately  copied  and  revised,  with 
the  result,  probably,  of  making  its  tone  more  intensely  Corsican;  for  it 
was  now  to  be  dedicated  to  Paoli.     The  Uterary  aspu-ant  must  have 


48 


LIFE   OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  18-20 


Chap.  VI  foreseen  the  comiBg  crash,  and  must  have  felt  that  the  exile  was  to  he 
1787-89  again  the  hherator,  and  perhaps  the  master,  of  his  native  land.  At  any 
rate,  he  abandoned  the  idea  of  immediate  pubhcation,  possibly  in  the 
dawning  hope  that  as  PaoU's  heutenant  he  could  make  Corsican  his- 
tory better  than  he  could  vmte  it.  It  is  this  copy  which  has  been 
preserved ;  the  original  was  probably  destroyed. 

The  other  literary  efforts  of  this  feverish  time  were  not  as  success- 
ful even  as  those  in  historical  writing.  The  stories  are  wild  and  crude; 
one  only,  "  The  Masked  Prophet,"  has  any  merit  or  interest  whatso- 
ever. Though  more  finished  than  the  others,  its  style  is  also  abrupt 
and  fuU  of  surprises ;  the  scene  and  characters  are  Oriental ;  the  plot  is 
a  feeble  invention.  An  ambitious  and  rebelhous  ameer  is  struck  with 
blindness,  and  has  recourse  to  a  sUver  mask  to  deceive  his  followers. 
Unsuccessful,  he  poisons  them  aU,  throws  their  corpses  into  pits  of 
quicklime,  then  leaps  in  himself,  to  deceive  the  world  and  leave  no 
trace  of  mortality  behind.  His  enemies  believe,  as  he  desired,  that 
he  and  his  people  have  been  taken  up  into  heaven.  The  whole,  how- 
ever, is  dimly  prescient,  and  the  concluding  hnes  of  the  fable  have  been 
thought  by  behevers  in  augury  to  be  prophetic.  "  Incredible  instance  ! 
How  far  can  the  passion  for  fame  go ! "  Among  the  papers  of  this 
period  are  also  a  constitution  for  the  "  calotte,"  a  secret  society  in  the 
army,  and  many  pohtical  notes.  One  of  these  is  a  project  for  an  essay 
on  royal  power,  intended  to  treat  of  its  origin  and  to  display  its  usur- 
pations, and  which  closes  with  these  words :  "  There  are  but  few  kings 
who  do  not  deserve  to  be  dethroned." 

The  various  absences  of  Buonaparte  from  his  regiment  up  to  this 
time  are  antagonistic  to  our  modern  ideas  of  mihtary  duty.  The  sub- 
sequent ones  seem  simply  inexphcable,  even  in  a  service  so  lax  as  that 
of  the  crumbling  Bourbon  dynasty.  He  did  not  reach  Auxonne,  where 
the  artillery  regiment  La  Fere  was  now  stationed,  until  the  end  of  May, 
1788.  He  remained  there  less  than  a  year  and  a  half,  and  then  actually 
obtained  another  leave  of  absence,  from  September  tenth,  1789,  to  Feb- 
ruary, 1791,  which  he  fully  intended  should  end  in  his  retirement  from 
the  French  service.  The  incidents  of  this  second  term  of  garrison  life 
are  not  numerous,  but  from  the  considerable  body  of  his  notes  and  exer- 
cises which  dates  from  this  period  we  know  that  he  suddenly  developed 
great  zeal  in  the  study  of  artillery,  theoretical  and  practical,  and  that 
he  redoubled  his  industry  in  the  pursuit  of  historical  and  political 


r   THE    COLLI. (.Tl (J.N    uh     :i.    1,    L.il.i 


E.VGBAVED    BY    K.    C.   TIETZE 


MARIE-ANNE-ELISA   BONAPARTE 

WIFE    OF    FELICE    PASQ.UALE    BACCIOCCHI  ;    PRINCESS    OF    LUCCA    AND    PIOMBINO, 
GRAND    DUCHESS   OF   TUSCANY,   COUNTESS   OF   COMPIGNANO 


PAINTED    ET    PIERRE    PR  CD  HON 


^T.  18-20]  FURTHER    ATTEMPTS    AT    AUTHORSHIP  49 

science.  In  the  former  line  of  work  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  chap.  vi 
Duteil,  a  brother  of  whom  befriended  him  at  Toulon;  in  the  latter  he  1787^» 
read  Plato  and  examined  the  constitutions  of  antiquity,  devouring  with 
avidity  what  hteratui'e  he  could  find  concerning  Venice,  Turkey,  Ta- 
tary,  and  Ai'abia.  At  the  same  time  he  carefully  read  the  histoiy  of 
England,  and  made  some  accurate  observations  on  the  condition  of  con- 
temporaneous pontics  in  France.  His  last  disappointment  had  ren- 
dered him  more  taciturn  and  misanthropic  than  ever;  it  seems  clear 
that  he  was  working  to  become  an  expert,  not  for  the  benefit  of  France, 
but  for  that  of  Corsica.  Charged  with  the  oversight  of  some  shght 
works  on  the  fortifications,  he  displayed  such  incompetence  that  he 
was  actually  punished  by  a  short  arrest.  Misfortune  still  pursued  the 
family.  The  youth  who  had  been  appointed  to  Brienne  when  Louis 
was  expecting  a  scholarship  suddenly  died.  Mme.  de  Buonaparte  was 
true  to  the  family  tradition,  and  immediately  forwarded  a  petition  for 
the  place,  but  was,  as  before,  imsuccessful.  Lucien  was  not  yet  ad- 
mitted to  Aix  ;  Joseph  was  a  barrister,  to  be  sure,  but  briefless.  Napo- 
leon once  again,  but  for  the  last  time, — and  with  marked  impatience, 
even  with  impertinence, —  took  up  the  task  of  sohcitation.  The  only 
result  was  a  good-humored,  non-committal  reply.  Meantime  the  first 
mutterings  of  the  revolutionary  outbreak  were  heard,  and  spasmodic 
disorders,  trifling  but  portentous,  were  breaking  out,  not  only  among 
the  people,  but  even  among  the  royal  troops.  One  of  these,  at  Semre, 
was  occasioned  by  the  news  that  the  hated  and  notorious  syndicate 
existing  under  the  scandalous  agreement  with  the  King  known  as  the 
"Bargain  of  Famine"  had  been  making  additional  purchases  of  grain 
from  two  merchants  of  that  town.  This  was  in  April,  1789.  Buona- 
parte was  put  in  command  of  a  company  and  sent  to  aid  in  suppress- 
ing the  riot.  But  it  was  ended  before  he  arrived;  on  May  first  he 
returned  to  Auxonne. 

Four  days  later  the  Estates  met  at  Versailles.  What  was  passing  in 
the  mind  of  the  restless,  bitter,  disappointed  Corsican  is  again  plainly 
revealed.  A  famous  letter  to  Paoh,  to  which  reference  has  abeady 
been  made,  is  dated  Jiine  tweKth.  It  is  a  justification  of  his  cher- 
ished work  as  the  only  means  open  to  a  poor  man,  the  slave  of  cu-cum- 
stances,  for  summoning  the  French  administration  to  the  bar  of  public 
opinion ;  viz.,  by  comparing  it  with  Paoh's.  Willing  to  face  the  conse- 
quences, the  writer  asks  for  documentary  materials  and  for  moral  sup- 


50 


LIFE    OP   NAPOLEON   BONAPARTE  [^t.  18-20 


ciiAP.  VI  port,  ending  with  ardent  assurances  of  devotion  fi'om  his  family,  his 
1787^89  mother,  and  himself.  But  there  is  a  ring  of  false  coin  in  many  of  its 
words  and  sentences.  The  "infamy"  of  those  who  hetrayed  Corsica 
was  the  infamy  of  his  own  father;  the  "devotion"  of  the  Buonaparte 
family  had  been  to  the  French  interest,  in  order  to  secure  free  educa- 
tion, with  support  for  then*  children,  in  France.  The  "enthusiasm"  of 
Napoleon  was  a  cold,  unsentimental  determination  to  push  then-  for- 
tunes, which,  with  opposite  principles,  would  have  been  honorable 
enough.  In  later  years  Lucien  said  that  he  had  made  two  copies  of 
the  histoiy.  It  was  probably  one  of  these  which  has  been  preserved. 
Whether  or  not  Paoh  read  the  book  does  not  appear.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  his  reply  to  Buonaparte's  letter,  written  some  months  later,  was 
not  calculated  to  encourage  the  would-be  historian.  Without  abso- 
lutely refusing  the  documents  asked  for  by  the  aspiring  writer,  he 
explained  that  he  had  no  time  to  search  for  them,  and  that,  besides, 
Corsican  history  was  only  important  in  any  sense  by  reason  of  the 
men  who  had  made  it,  not  by  reason  of  its  achievements.  Among 
other  bits  of  fatherly  counsel  was  this:  "You  are  too  young  to  write 
history.  Make  ready  for  such  an  entei*prise  slowly.  Patiently  collect 
your  anecdotes  and  facts.  Accept  the  opinions  of  other  writers  with 
reserve."  As  if  to  soften  the  severity  of  his  advice,  there  follows  a 
strain  of  modest  self -depreciation :  "Would  that  others  had  known 
less  of  me  and  I  more  of  myself.  Probe  diu  vivimus;  may  our  descen- 
dants so  hve  that  they  shaU  speak  of  me  merely  as  one  who  had  good 
intentions." 

Buonaparte's  last  shift  in  the  treatment  of  his  book  was  most 
imdignified  and  petty.  With  the  unprincipled  resentment  of  despair, 
in  want  of  money,  not  of  advice,  he  entirely  remodeled  it  for  the  third 
time,  its  chapters  being  now  put  as  fragmentary  traditions  into  the 
mouth  of  a  Corsican  mountaineer.  In  this  form  it  was  dedicated  to 
Necker,  the  famous  Swiss,  who  as  French  minister  of  finance  was 
vainly  struggling  with  the  problem  of  how  to  distribute  taxation 
equally,  and  to  collect  from  the  privileged  classes  their  share.  A  copy 
was  first  sent  to  a  former  teacher  for  criticism.  His  judgment  was  ex- 
tremely severe  both  as  to  expression  and  style.  In  particular,  atten- 
tion was  called  to  the  disadvantage  of  indulging  in  so  much  rhetoric 
for  the  benefit  of  an  overworked  pubhc  sei-vant  hke  Necker,  and  to 
the  inappropriateness  of  putting  his  own  metaphysical  generahzations 


\ 


^T.  18-20]  FURTHER    ATTEMPTS   AT   AUTHORSHIP  51 

and  captious  criticism  of  French  royalty  into  the  mouth  of  a  peasant    cnxp.  vi 
mountaineer.     Before  the  correspondence  ended,  Napoleon's  student      1787-89 
life  was  over.     Necker  had  fled,  the  French  Revolution  was  rushing  on 
with  ever-increasing  speed,  and  the  young  adventurer,  despairing  of 
success  as   a  writer,  seized  the  proifered   opening  to  become  a  man 
of  action. 


CHAPTER  Vn 


THE  EEVOLUTION  IN   FBANCE 


The  French  Aeistoceacy — Priests,  Lawyers,  and  Petty  Nobles  — 
Burghers,  Artisans,  and  Laborers  —  The  Great  Nobles  a  Bar- 
rier TO  Reform  —  Mistakes  of  the  King  —  The  Estates  Meet 
at  Versailles — The  Court  Party  Provokes  Violence  —  Down- 
fall OF  Feudal  Privilege. 

Chap,  vh  AT  last  the  ideas  of  the  century  had  declared  open  war  on  its  insti- 
1787-89  jL\.  tutions ;  their  moral  conquest  was  already  coextensive  with  cen- 
tral and  western  Europe,  but  the  first  efforts  toward  their  realization 
were  to  be  made  in  France,  for  the  reason  that  the  hne  of  least  resist- 
ance was  to  be  found  not  through  the  most  down-trodden,  but  through 
the  freest  and  the  best-instructed,  nation  on  the  Continent.  Both  the 
clergy  and  the  nobihty  of  France  had  become  accustomed  to  the  ab- 
sorption in  the  crown  of  then*  ancient  feudal  power.  They  were  con- 
tent with  the  great  of&ces  in  the  chui-ch,  in  the  army,  and  in  the  civil 
administration,  with  exemption  from  the  payment  of  taxes ;  they  were 
happy  in  the  deUghts  of  literature  and  the  fine  arts,  in  the  joys  of 
a  pohte,  self-indulgent,  and  spendthrift  society,  so  artificial  and  con- 
ventional that  for  most  of  its  members  a  sufficient  occupation  was 
found  in  the  study  and  exposition  of  its  trivial  but  complex  customs. 
The  serious-minded  among  the  upper  classes  were  as  enlightened  as 
any  of  their  rank  elsewhere.  They  were  familiar  with  prevalent  phi- 
losophies, and  f uU  of  compassion  for  miseries  which,  for  lack  of  power, 
they  could  not  remedy,  and  which,  to  their  dismay,  they  only  intensi- 
fied in  their  attempts  at  alleviation.  They  were  even  ready  for  con- 
siderable sacrifices.  The  gracious  side  of  the  character  of  Louis  XVI. 
is  but  a  reflection  of  the  piety,  moderation,  and  earnestness  of  many  of 
the  nobles.     His  rule  was  mild;  there  were  no  excessive  indignities 

62 


H 
X 

w 

O 
> 

O 
m 
Z 

o 

•n 

H 
K 
rn 

H 
G 

t- 

m 


^T.  18-20]  THE    REVOLUTION    IN    FRANCE  53 

practised  in  the  name  of  royal  power  except  in  cases  like  that  of  the  chap.  vn 
"  Bargain  of  Famine,"  where  he  believed  himself  helpless.  The  lower  i787-8t» 
clergy,  as  a  whole,  were  faithful  in  the  performance  of  their  duties. 
This  was  not  true  of  the  hierarchy.  They  were  great  landowners,  and 
their  interests  coincided  with  those  of  the  upper  nobihty.  The  doubt 
of  the  centmy  had  not  left  them  untouched,  and  there  were  many 
without  conviction  or  principle,  time-serving  and  in-everent.  The 
lawyers  and  other  professional  men  were  to  be  found,  for  the  most 
part,  in  Paris  and  in  the  towns.  They  had  their  Uvelihood  in  the  ir- 
regularities of  society,  and,  as  a  class,  were  retentive  of  ancient  custom 
and  present  social  habits.  Although  by  birth  they  belonged  in  the 
main  to  the  thii-d  estate,  they  were  in  reahty  adjunct  to  the  first,  and 
consequently,  being  integi-al  members  of  neither,  formed  a  strong  inde- 
pendent class  by  themselves.  The  petty  nobles  were  in  much  the 
same  condition  with  regard  to  the  wealthy,  powerful  families  in  their 
own  estate  and  to  the  rich  bm'ghers ;  they  man-ied  the  fortunes  of  the 
latter  and  accepted  their  hospitahty,  but  otherwise  treated  them  with 
the  same  exclusive  condescension  displayed  to  themselves  by  the  great. 
But  if  the  estate  of  the  clergy  and  the  estate  of  the  nobihty  were 
ahke  divided  in  character  and  interests,  this  was  still  more  true  of  the 
bui'ghers.  In  1614,  at  the  close  of  the  middle  ages,  the  third  estate 
had  been  httle  concerned  with  the  agricultural  laborer.  For  various 
reasons  this  class  had  been  gradually  emancipated  until  now  there  was 
less  serfage  in  France  than  elsewhere ;  more  than  a  quarter,  perhaps  a 
thh'd,  of  the  land  was  in  the  hands  of  peasants  and  other  small  proprie- 
tors. This,  to  be  sure,  was  economically  disastrous,  for  over-division 
of  land  makes  tillage  improfitable,  and  these  very  men"  were  the  tax- 
payers. The  change  had  been  still  more  marked  in  the  denizens  of 
towns.  During  the  last  two  centuries  the  wealthy  burgesses  had 
grown  still  more  wealthy  in  the  expansion  of  trade,  commerce,  and 
manufactures;  many  had  struggled  and  bought  then-  way  into  the 
ranks  of  the  nobihty.  The  small  tradesmen  had  remained  smug,  hard 
to  move,  and  resentful  of  change.  But  there  was  a  large  body  of  men 
unknown  to  previous  constitutions,  and  growing  ever  larger  with  the 
increase  in  population — inteUigent  and  unintelligent  artisans,  half- 
educated  employees  in  workshops,  mills,  and  trading-houses,  ever 
recruited  from  the  country  population,  seeking  such  intermittent  occu- 
pation as  the  towns  afforded.     The  very  lowest  stratum  of  this  society 


I 

i 


54  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  18-20 

Chap.  VII    was  tbcii,  as  iiow,  most  dangerous ;  idle,  dissipated,  and  unscrupulous, 
1787-89     they  were  yet  sufficiently  educated  to  discuss  and  disseminate  peril- 
ous doctrines,  and  were  often  most  ready  in  speech  and  fertile   in 
resource. 

As  early  as  1739  there  had  been  a  deficiency  in  the  French  finances. 
From  small  beginnings  the  annual  loans  had  grown  until,  in  1787,  the 
sum  to  be  raised  over  and  above  the  regular  income  was  no  less  than 
thh'ty-two  milhons  of  doUars.  This  was  all  due  to  the  extravagance  of 
the  coui-t  and  the  aristocracy,  who  spent,  for  the  most  part,  far  more 
than  the  amount  they  actually  collected  and  honestly  believed  to  be 
theu'  income.  This  coui'se  was  vastly  more  disastrous  than  it  ap- 
peared, being  ruinous  not  only  to  personal  but  to  national  well-being, 
inasmuch  as  what  the  nobles,  even  the  earnest  an,d  honest  ones,  be- 
heved  to  be  their  legitimate  income  was  not  really  such.  Two  thirds 
of  the  land  was  in  their  hands;  the  other  third  paid  the  entire  land- 
tax.  They  were  therefore  regarding  as  their  ovsoi  two  thirds  of  what 
was  in  reahty  taken  altogether  from  the  pockets  of  the  small  proprie- 
tors. Small  sacrifices  the  ruling  class  professed  itself  ready  to  make, 
but  such  a  one  as  to  pay  their  share  of  the  land-tax — never.  It  had 
been  proposed  also  to  destroy  the  monopoly  of  the  grain  trade,  and  to 
abohsh  the  road-work,  a  task  more  hateful  to  the  people  than  any  tax, 
because  it  brought  them  into  direct  contact  with  the  exasperating  su- 
perciliousness of  petty  officials,  Biit  in  aU  these  proposed  reforms 
Necker,  Calonne,  and  Lomenie  de  Brienne,  each  approaching  the  nobles 
from  a  separate  standpoint,  had  ahke  failed.  The  nobihty  could  see  in 
such  retrenchment  and  change  nothing  but  ruin  for  themselves.  An 
assembly  of  notables,  called  in  1781,  would  not  hsten  to  propositions 
which  seemed  suicidal.  The  King  began  to  ahenate  the  affection  of  his 
natural  allies,  the  people,  by  yielding  to  the  clamor  of  the  court  party. 
From  the  nobihty  he  could  wring  nothing.  The  royal  treasury  was 
therefore  actually  bankrupt,  the  nobles  beheved  that  they  were  threat- 
ened with  bankruptcy,  and  the  people  knew  that  they  themselves  were 
not  only  banknipt,  but  also  hungry  and  oppressed. 

At  last  the  King,  aware  of  the  nation's  extremity,  began  to  under- 
take refoi-ms  without  reference  to  class  prejudice,  and  on  his  own 
authority.  He  decreed  a  stamp-tax,  and  the  equal  distribution  of 
the  land-tax.  He  strove  to  compel  the  miwilling  parhament  of  Paris, 
a  com-t  of  justice  which  he  himself  had  reconstituted,  to  register  his 


^T.  18-20]  THE    REVOLUTION    IN    FRANCE  55 

decrees,  and  tlien  banished  it  fi'om  the  capital  because  it  would  not.  chap.  \ti 
That  coui't  had  been  the  last  remaining  cheek  on  absolutism  in  the  itst-so 
country,  and,  as  such,  an  ally  of  the  people;  so  that  altliough  the 
motives  and  the  measures  of  Louis  were  just,  the  high-handed  means 
to  which  he  resorted  in  order  to  carry  them  ahenated  him  still  fui-ther 
fi'oni  the  affections  of  the  nation.  The  parhament,  m  justifying  its 
opi^osition,  had  declared  that  taxes  in  France  could  be  laid  only  by  the 
Estates-Greneral.  The  people  had  almost  forgotten  the  very  name,  and 
were  entirely  ignorant  of  what  that  body  was,  vaguely  supposing  that, 
like  the  Enghsh  Parhament  or  the  American  Congress,  it  was  in  some 
sense  a  legislative  assembly.  They  therefore  made  their  voice  heard  in 
no  imcertaiu  sound,  demanding  that  the  Estates  should  meet.  Louis 
abandoned  his  attitude  of  independence,  and  recalled  the  parliament 
from  Troyes,  but  only  to  exasperate  its  members  still  fiu'ther  by  insist- 
ing on  a  huge  loan,  on  the  restoration  of  civil  rights  to  the  Protestants, 
and  on  restricting,  not  only  its  powers,  but  those  of  all  similar  courts 
throughout  the  realm.  The  parhament  of  Paris  declared  that  France 
was  a  limited  monarchy  with  constitutional  checks  on  the  power  of  the 
crown,  and  exasperated  men  flocked  to  the  city  to  remonstrate  against 
the  menace  to  their  hberties  in  the  degradation  of  all  the  parhaments 
by  the  King's  action  in  regard  to  that  of  Paris.  Those  fi'om  Brittany 
formed  an  association,  which  soon  admitted  other  members,  and  de- 
veloped into  the  notorious  Jacobin  Club,  so  called  fi'om  its  meeting- 
place,  a  convent  on  the  Rue  St.  Honore  once  occupied  by  Dominican 
monks  who  had  moved  thither  from  the  Rue  St.  Jacques. 

To  siunmon  the  Estates  was  a  virtual  confession  that  absolutism  in 
France  was  at  an  end.  In  the  seventeenth  century  the  three  estates 
dehberated  separately.  Such  matters  came  before  them  as  were  sub- 
mitted by  the  crown,  chiefly  demands  for  revenue.  A  decision  was 
reached  by  the  agreement  of  any  two  of  the  three,  and  whatever  propo- 
sition the  crown  submitted  was  either  accepted  or  rejected.  There  was 
no  real  legislation.  Louis  no  doubt  hoped  that  the  eighteenth-centmy 
assembly  wou^ld  be  hke  that  of  the  seventeenth.  He  could  then,  by 
the  coahtion  of  the  nobles  and  the  clergy  against  the  biu'ghers,  or  by 
any  "other  an-angement  of  two  to  one,  secure  authorization  either  for 
his  loans  or  for  his  reforms,  as  the  case  might  be,  and  so  cany  both. 
But  the  France  of  1789  was  not  the  France  of  1614.  As  soon  as  the 
call  for  the  meeting  was  issued,  and  the  decisive  steps  were  taken,  the 


56 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  18-20 


Chap,  vn  whole  couiitry  was  flooded  with  pamphlets.  Most  of  them  were  ephem- 
1787-89  eral;  one  was  epochal.  The  Abbe  Sieyes  asked  the  question,  "What 
is  the  third  estate  ?  "  and  answered  it  so  as  to  strengthen  the  already 
spreading  conviction  that  the  people  of  France  were  really  the  nation. 
The  King  was  so  far  convinced  as  to  agree  that  the  third  estate  should 
be  represented  by  delegates  equal  in  number  to  those  of  the  clergy 
and  nobles  combined.  The  elections  passed  quietly,  and  on  May  fifth, 
1789,  the  Estates  met  at  Versailles,  imder  the  shadow  of  the  coui-t.  It 
was  immediately  evident  that  the  hands  of  the  clock  could  not  be  put 
back  two  centui'ies,  and  that  here  was  gathered  an  assembly  unhke  any 
that  had  ever  met  in  the  country,  determined  to  express  the  sentiments, 
and  to  be  the  executive,  of  the  masses  who  in  their  opinion  constituted 
the  nation.  On  June  seventeenth,  therefore,  after  long  talk  and  much 
hesitation,  the  representatives  of  the  thu-d  estate  declared  themselves 
the  representatives  of  the  whole  nation,  and  invited  their  colleagues  of 
the  clergy  and  nobles  to  join  them.  Their  meeting-place  having  been 
closed  in  consequence  of  this  decision,  they  gathered  without  authoriza- 
tion in  the  royal  tennis-court  on  June  twentieth,  and  bound  themselves 
by  oath  not  to  disperse  until  they  had  introduced  a  new  order.  Louis 
was  nevertheless  nearly  successful  in  his  plan  of  keeping  the  sittings  of 
the  three  estates  separate.  He  was  thwarted  by  the  eloquence  and 
courage  of  Mirabeau.  On  June  twenty-seventh  a  majority  of  the 
delegates  from  the  two  upper  estates  gave  way,  and  joined  those  of  the 
third  estate  as  representatives  of  the  people. 

At  this  juncture  the  com't  party  began  the  disastrous  poUcy  which 
in  the  end  was  responsible  for  most  of  the  terrible  excesses  of  the 
French  Revolution,  by  insisting  that  troops  should  be  called  to  restrain 
the  Assembly,  and  that  Necker  should  be  banished.  Louis  showed 
the  same  vacillating  spirit  now  that  he  had  displayed  in  yielding  to  the 
Assembly,  and  assented.  The  noble  officers  had  lately  shown  them- 
selves untrustworthy,  and  the  men  in  the  ranks  refused  to  obey  when 
called  to  fight  against  the  people.  The  baser  social  elements  of  the 
whole  country  had  long  since  swarmed  to  the  capital.  Their  leaders 
now  fanned  the  flame  of  popular  discontent  until  at  last  resort  was  had 
to  violence.  On  July  twelfth  the  barriers  of  Paris  were  burned,  and 
the  regular  troops  were  defeated  by  the  mob  in  the  Place  Vendome ; 
on  July  fourteenth  the  Bastille,  in  itself  a  harmless  anachronism  but 
considered  by  the  masses  to  typify  all  the  tyrannical  shifts  and  inhu- 


AQUABELLF.  MAUli  FuU  Till^  CENXUKf  Cu, 


NAPOLEON    ON   HIS  WAY  TO   CORSICA   WITH    HIS  SISTER  ELISA 

FBOM    THE    AQUABEXLK    BY    EBIC    PAPK 

They  were  met  at  Valence  by  hia  former  landlady,  who  brought  him  a  present  of  fruit 


k 


•  I 


I 


iET.  18-20]  THE    REVOLUTION    IN    FRANCE  57 

man  oppressions  known  to  despotism,  was  razed  to  tlie  ground.    As  if    Chap.  vn 
to  crown  their  baseness,  the  extreme  conservatives  among  the  nobles,      1787-89 
the  very  men  who  had  brought  the  King  to  such  straits,  now  aban- 
doned him  and  fled. 

Louis  finally  bowed  to  the  storm,  and  came  to  reside  among  his 
people  in  Paris,  as  a  sign  of  submission.  Bailly,  an  excellent  and  ju- 
dicious man,  was  made  mayor  of  the  city,  and  Lafayette,  with  his 
American  laurels  still  unfaded,  was  made  commander  of  a  newly  or- 
ganized force,  to  be  known  as  the  National  Guard.  On  July  seven- 
teenth the  King  accepted  the  red,  white,  and  blue — the  recognized 
colors  of  hberty — as  national.  The  insignia  of  a  djTiasty  were  ex- 
changed for  the  badge  of  a  principle.  A  similar  transformation  took 
place  thi'oughout  the  land,  and  administration  everywhere  passed  qui- 
etly into  the  hands  of  the  popular  representatives.  The  flying  no- 
bles found  their  chateaux  hotter  than  Paris.  Not  only  must  the  old 
feudal  privileges  go,  but  with  them  the  old  feudal  grants,  the  charters 
of  oppression  in  the  muniment  chests.  These  charters  the  peasants  in- 
sisted must  be  destroyed.  If  they  could  not  otherwise  gain  possession 
of  them  they  resorted  to  violence,  and  sometimes  in  the  intoxication  of 
the  hour  they  exceeded  the  bounds  of  reason,  abusing  both  the  persons 
and  the  legitimate  property  of  then-  enemies.  Death  or  surrender  was 
often  the  alternative.  So  it  was  that  there  was  no  refuge  on  their  es- 
tates, not  even  a  temporary  one,  for  those  who  had  so  long  possessed 
them.  Many  had  ah*eady  passed  into  foreign  lands ;  the  emigration  in- 
creased, and  continued  in  a  steady  stream.  The  moderate  nobles,  honest 
patriots  to  whom  hfe  in  exile  was  not  hfe  at  all,  now  clearly  saw  that 
theii"  Order  must  yield:  in  the  night  session  of  August  fourth,  some-- 
times  called  the  "  St.  Bartholomew  of  privilege,"  they  sui-rendered  their 
privileges  in  a  mass.  Every  vestige,  not  only  of  feudal,  but  also  of 
chartered  privilege,  was  swept  away ;  even  the  King's  hunting-grounds 
were  reduced  to  the  dimensions  permitted  to  a  private  gentleman.  All 
men  alike,  it  was  agreed,  were  to  renounce  the  conventional  and  arbi- 
trary distinctions  which  had  created  inequality  in  civil  and  political 
life,  and  accept  the  absolute  equahty  of  citizenship.  Liberty  and  fra- 
ternity were  the  two  springers  of  the  new  arch ;  its  keystone  was  to  be 
equality.  On  August  twenty-third  the  Assembly  decreed  freedom  of 
religious  opinion ;  on  the  next  day  freedom  of  the  press. 


CHAPTEE  VIII 

bonapaete  and  kevolution  in  coksica 

Napoleon's  Studies  Continued  at  Auxonne — Another  Illness  and 
A  FuELOUGH  —  His  Scheme  of  Corsican  Liberation — His  Ap- 
pearance AT  Twenty  —  His  Attainments  and  Character  —  His 
Shifty  Conduct  —  The  Homeward  Journey  —  New  Parties  in 
Corsica  —  Salicetti  and  the  Nationalists  —  Napoleon  becomes  a 
Political  Agitator  —  And  Leader  of  the  Radicals  —  The  Na- 
tional Assembly  Incorporates  Corsica  with  France  and  Grants 
Amnesty  to  Paoli  —  Momentary  Joy  of  the  Corsican  Patriots — 
The  French  Assembly  Ridicules  Genoa's  Protest — Napoleon's 
Plan  for  Corsican  Administration. 

Chap,  vm  ^J^UCH  were  tlie  events  taking  place  in  the  great  world  while  Bnona- 
178^-90  ^^  parte  was  at  Auxonne.  That  town,  as  had  been  expected,  was 
most  uneasy,  and  on  July  nineteenth,  1789,  there  was  an  actual  out- 
break of  violence,  directed  there,  as  elsewhere,  against  the  tax-receivers. 
The  riot  was  easily  suppressed,  and  for  some  weeks  yet  the  regular 
round  of  studious  monotony  in  the  young  heutenant's  hfe  was  not  dis- 
turbed except  as  his  poverty  made  his  asceticism  more  rigorous.  "  I 
have  no  other  resource  but  work,"  he  wrote  to  his  mother ;  "  I  dress  but 
once  in  eight  days  [Sunday  parade  ?] ;  I  sleep  but  httle  since  my  illness ; 
it  is  incredible.  I  retire  at  ten,  and  rise  at  four  in  the  morning.  I  take 
but  one  meal  a  day,  at  three ;  that  is  good  for  my  health." 

More  bad  news  came  from  Corsica.  The  starving  patriot  fell  seri- 
ously ill,  and  for  a  time  his  life  hung  in  the  balance.  On  August  eighth 
he  was  at  last  sufficiently  restored  to  travel,  and  apphed  for  a  six 
months'  fm-lough,  to  begin  immediately.  Under  the  regulations,  in  spite 
of  his  previous  leaves  and  irregularities,  he  was  this  year  entitled  to  such 


^T.  20-21]  BONAPARTE    AND    REVOLUTION    IN    CORSICA  59 

a  vacation,  but  not  before  October.  His  plea  that  the  winter  was  unfa-  chap.  vni 
vorable  for  the  voyage  to  Corsica  was  characteristic,  for  it  was  neither  ngo^oo 
altogether  true  nor  altogether  false.  He  was  feverish  and  ill,  excited  by 
news  of  tui-moils  at  home,  and  wished  to  be  on  the  scene  of  action ; 
this  would  have  been  a  true  and  sufficient  ground  for  his  request.  It 
was  Ukewise  true,  however,  that  his  chance  for  a  smooth  passage  was 
better  in  Augaist  than  in  October,  and  this  evident  fact,  though  probably 
irrelevant,  might  move  the  authorities.  Their  answer  was  favorable, 
and  on  September  sixteenth  he  left  Auxonne. 

In  the  interval  occuiTed  a  mutiny  in  the  regiment.  The  pay  of  the 
men  was  far  in  arrears,  and  they  demanded  a  division  of  the  surplus 
which  had  accumulated  fi'om  the  vai-ious  regimental  gi-ants,  and  which 
was  managed  by  the  officers  for  the  benefit  of  their  own  mess.  The 
officers  were  compelled  to  yield,  so  far  had  revolutionaiy  license  sup- 
planted royal  and  mihtaiy  authority.  Of  course  a  general  orgy  fol- 
lowed. It  seems  to  have  been  dming  these  days  that  the  scheme  of 
Corsican  hberation  which  brought  him  finally  into  the  field  of  poUtics 
took  shape  in  Napoleon's  mind.  Fesch  had  returned  to  Corsica,  and 
had  long  kept  his  nephew  thoroughly  informed  of  the  situation.  By 
the  anarchy  prevailing  all  about  him  in  France,  and  beginning  to  pre- 
vail in  Corsica,  his  eyes  were  opened  to  the  possibilities  of  the  Revo- 
lution for  one  who  knew  how  to  take  advantage  of  the  changed  order. 

The  appearance  of  Buonaparte  in  his  twentieth  year  was  not  in 
general  noteworthy.  His  head  was  shapely,  but  not  uncommon  in 
size,  although  disproportionate  to  the  frame  which  bore  it.  His  fore- 
head was  wide  and  of  medium  height;  on  each  side  long  chestnut 
hau* — lanky  as  we  may  suppose  from  his  own  account  of  his  personal 
habits — fell  in  stiff,  flat  locks  over  his  lean  cheeks.  His  eyes  were 
large,  and  in  their  steel-blue  irises,  liu'king  under  deep-arched  and  pro- 
jecting brows,  was  a  penetrating  quality  which  veiled  the  mind  within. 
The  nose  was  straight  and  shapely,  the  mouth  large,  the  Hps  fuU  and 
sensuous,  although  the  powerful  projecting  chin  diminished  somewhat 
the  true  effect  of  the  lower  one.  His  complexion  was  sallow.  The 
fi-ame  of  his  body  was  in  general  smaU  and  fine,  particularly  his  hands 
and  feet ;  but  his  deep  chest  and  short  neck  were  gigantic.  This  lack 
of  proportion  did  not,  however,  interfere  with  his  gait,  which  was  finn 
and  steady.  The  student  of  character  would  have  declared  the  strip- 
ling to  be  self-rehant  and  secretive;  ambitious  and  calculating;  mas- 


60 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  20-21 


Chap,  vhi    terful,  but  kindly.    In  an  age  when  plirenology  was  a  mania,  its  mas- 

17^90      ters  found  in  his  cranium  the  organs  of  what  they  called  imagination 

and  causaUty,  of  individuahty,  comparison,  and  locahty  —  by  which 

jargon  they  meant  to  say  that  he  had  a  strong  power  of  imaging  and  of 

inductive  reasoning,  a  knowledge  of  men,  of  places,  and  of  things. 

The  life  of  the  young  ofiicer  had  thus  far  been  so  commonplace  as 
to  awaken  httle  expectation  for  his  futm'e.  Poor  as  he  was,  and  care- 
ful of  his  slim  resources,  he  had,  like  the  men  of  his  class,  mdulged  his 
passions  to  a  certain  degree ;  but  he  had  not  been  riotous  in  his  hving, 
and  he  had  so  far  not  a  debt  in  the  world.  What  his  education  and 
reading  were  makes  clear  that  he  could  have  known  nothing  with  a 
scholar's  comprehensive  thoroughness  except  the  essentials  of  his  pro- 
fession. But  he  could  master  details  as  no  man  before  or  since ;  he 
had  a  vast  fund  of  information,  and  a  historic  outline  drawn  in  fair 
proportion  and  powerful  strokes.  His  philosophy  was  meager,  but  he 
knew  the  principles  of  Rousseau  and  Raynal  thoroughly.  His  concep- 
tion of  pohtics  and  men  was  not  scientific,  but  it  was  clear  and  practi- 
cal. The  trade  of  arms  had  not  been  to  his  taste.  He  heartily  disliked 
routine,  and  despised  the  petty  duties  of  his  rank.  His  profession, 
however,  was  a  means  to  an  end ;  of  any  mastery  of  strategy  or  tactics 
or  even  interest  in  them  he  had  as  yet  given  no  sign,  but  he  was  ab- 
sorbed in  contemplating  and  analyzing  the  exploits  of  the  great  world- 
conquerors.  In  particular  his  mind  was  dazzled  by  the  splendors  of 
the  Orient  as  the  only  field  on  which  an  Alexander  could  have  displayed 
himself,  and  he  knew  what  but  a  few  great  minds  have  grasped,  that 
the  interchange  of  relations  between  the  East  and  the  West  had  been 
the  life  of  the  world.  The  greatness  of  England  he  understood  to  be 
largely  due  to  her  bestriding  the  two  hemispheres. 

Up  to  this  moment  he  had  been  a  theorist,  and  might  have  wasted 
his  fine  powers  by  further  indulgence  in  dazzhng  generalizations,  as  so 
many  boys  do  when  not  called  to  test  their  hypotheses  by  experience. 
Henceforward  he  was  removed  from  this  temptation.  A  plan  for  an 
elective  council  in  Corsica  to  replace  that  of  the  nobles,  and  for  a 
local  militia,  having  been  matured,  he  was  a  cautious  and  practical 
experimenter  from  the  moment  he  left  Auxonne.  Thus  far  he  had  put 
into  practice  none  of  his  fine  thoughts,  nor  the  lessons  learned  in 
books.  The  family  destitution  had  made  him  a  solicitor  of  favors, 
and,  but  for  the  tvmx  in  pubhc  affairs,  he  might  have  continued  to  be 


IN    TUli    UOTtL    JJE    VlLLfc,   AJACCIO 


t..sGltAVhb    ilV    1.    t,    iLU-UlJluWN 


JOSEPH    BONAPARTE 

KING    OF   NAPLES,  KING    OF    SPAIN,   COMTE    DE    SURVILLIERS 

FROM    A    PAISTINa    BY    AN    UNKNOWN    ABTIST 

As  Comte  Je  SurviUiera,  resident  of  Bordentown.  X.  J. 


4 


JET.  20-21]  BONAPARTE   AND    REVOLUTION    IN    CORSICA  61 

one.     His  own  inclinations  had  made  liim  both  a  good  student  and  a   chap.  vm 
poor  officer ;  without  a  field  for  larger  duties  he  might  liave  remained      nsoloo 
as  he  was.     In  Corsica  his  line  of  conduct  was  not  changed  abruptly : 
the  possibihties  of  greater  things  dawning  gradually,  the  appUcation  of 
great  conceptions  already  formed  came  with  the  march  of  events,  not 
like  the  sun  biu-stiug  out  from  behind  a  cloud. 

Travehng  by  way  of  Aix,  Napoleon  took  the  unlucky  Lucien  with 
him.  This  wayward  but  independent  younger  brother,  making  no  al- 
lowance, as  he  tells  us  in  his  pubUshed  memou's,  for  the  disdain  an  older 
boy  at  school  is  supposed  to  feel  for  a  younger  one,  blood  relative  or 
not,  had  been  repelled  by  the  cold  reception  his  senior  had  given  him 
at  Brienne.  Having  left  that  school  against  the  advice  of  the  same 
would-be  mentor,  his  suit  for  admission  to  Aix  had  been  fruitless. 
Necessity  was  di-iving  him  homeward,  and  the  two  who  in  after  days 
were  agaiu  to  be  separated  were  now,  for  almost  the  only  time  in  their 
Uves,  comjjanions  for  a  considerable  period.  Their  intercourse  made 
them  no  more  harmonious  iu  feeling.  The  only  incident  of  the  jour- 
ney was  a  visit  to  the  Abbe  Raynal  at  Marseilles.  We  would  gladly 
know  something  of  the  talk  between  the  master  and  the  pupil,  but 
we  do  not. 

Napoleon  found  no  change  in  the  circumstances  of  the  Buonaparte 
family.  The  old  archdeacon  was  stiU  hving,  and  for  the  moment  all 
except  Elisa  were  at  home.  On  the  whole,  they  were  more  needy  than 
ever.  The  death  of  their  patron,  Marbeuf ,  had  been  followed  by  the 
final  rejection  of  their  long-urged  suit,  and  this  fact,  combiaed  with  the 
pohtical  opinions  of  the  elder  Lucien,  was  beginning  to  wean  them 
from  the  official  chque.  There  were  the  same  factions  as  before — the 
official  party  and  the  patriots.  Since  the  death  of  Charles  de  Buona- 
parte, the  foiTner  had  been  represented  at  Versailles  by  Buttafuoco, 
Choiseul's  unworthy  instrument  in  acquiring  the  island,  and  now,  as 
then,  an  uninfluential  and  consequential  self-seeker.  Its  members  were 
all  aristocrats  and  royahst  in  politics.  The  higher  priesthood  were  of 
similar  mind,  and  had  chosen  the  Abbe  Peretti  to  represent  them ;  the 
parish  priests,  as  in  France,  were  with  the  people.  Both  the  higher 
classes  were  comparatively  small;  in  spite  of  twenty  years  of  peace  under 
French  rule,  they  were  both  excessively  unpopular,  and  utterly  with- 
out any  hold  on  the  islanders.  They  had  but  one  partizan  with  an  in- 
fluential name,  a  son  of  the  old-time  patriot  Gafi'ori,  the  father-in-law 


62 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  20-21 


Chap,  vid  of  Buttafnoco.  The  overwlielming  majority  of  the  natives  were  little 
1789^90  changed  in  their  temper.  There  were  the  old,  imswerving  patriots  who 
wanted  absolute  independence,  and  were  now  called  Paohsts;  there 
were  the  self-styled  patriots,  the  yoimger  men,  who  wanted  a  protec- 
torate that  they  might  enjoy  virtual  independence  and  secm-e  a  career 
by  peace.  There  was  in  the  harbor  towns  on  the  eastern  slope  the 
same  submissive,  peace-loving  temper  as  of  old ;  in  the  west  the  same 
fiery,  warlike  spirit.  Corte  was  the  center  of  PaoU's  power,  Calvi  was 
the  seat  of  French  influence;  Bastia  was  radical,  Ajaccio  was  about 
equally  divided  between  the  younger  and  older  parties,  with  a  strong 
infusion  of  official  influence. 

Both  the  representatives  of  the  people  in  the  National  Convention 
were  of  the  moderate  party;  one  of  them,  Salicetti,  was  a  man  of  abihty, 
a  friend  of  the  Buonapai-tes,  and  destined  later  to  influence  deeply  the 
com'se  of  their  affau-s.  He  and  his  colleague  Colonna  were  ui-ging  on 
the  National  Assembly  measures  for  the  local  administration  of  the 
island.  To  this  faction,  as  to  the  other,  it  had  become  clear  that  if 
Corsica  was  to  reap  the  benefits  of  the  new  era  it  must  be  by  union 
under  Paoli.  All,  old  and  young  alike,  desired  a  thorough  reform  of 
theu"  barbarous  juiisprudence,  and,  Hke  all  other  French  subjects,  a 
free  press,  free  trade,  the  abolition  of  all  privilege,  equality  in  taxation, 
ehgibihty  to  office  without  regard  to  rank,  and  the  diminution  of  mo- 
nastic revenues  for  the  benefit  of  education.  Nowhere  could  such 
changes  be  more  easily  made  than  in  a  land  just  emerging  fi'om  bar- 
barism, where  old  institutions  were  disappearing  and  new  ones  were 
still  fiuid.  Paoh  himself  had  come  to  beheve  that  independence  could 
more  easily  be  seciu-ed  from  a  regenerated  France,  and  with  her  help, 
than  by  a  warfare  which  might  again  arouse  the  ambition  of  Genoa. 

Buonaparte's  natural  associates  were  the  younger  men — Masseria, 
son  of  a  patriot  fine,  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  Peraldi,  Cuneo,  Ramolini,  and 
others  less  influential.  The  only  Corsican  with  French  military  train- 
ing, he  was,  in  view  of  uncertainties  and  probabilities  ah-eady  on  the 
horizon,  a  person  of  considerable  consequence.  His  contribution  to  the 
schemes  of  the  young  patriots  was  significant :  it  consisted  in  a  pro- 
posal to  form  a  body  of  local  militia  for  the  support  of  that  central  com- 
mittee which  his  friends  so  ardently  desired.  The  plan  was  promptly 
adopted  by  the  associates,  the  radicals  seeing  in  it  a  means  to  put  arms 
once  more  into  the  hands  of  the  people,  the  others  no  doubt  having  in 


^T.  20-21]  BONAPARTE   AND    REVOLUTION    IN    CORSICA  63 

mind  the  storming  of  the  Bastille  and  the  possibility  of  similar  move-  chap.  viii 
ments  in  Ajaccio  and  elsewhere.  Buonaparte,  the  only  trained  officer  i78y-9o 
among  them,  may  have  dreamed  of  abandoning  the  French  service,  and 
of  a  supreme  command  in  Corsica.  Many  of  the  people  who  appeared 
well  disposed  toward  France  had  from  time  to  time  received  permission 
from  the  authorities  to  caiTy  arms,  many  carried  them  secretly  and 
without  a  hcenso ;  but  proportionately  there  were  so  few  in  both  classes 
that  vigorous  or  successful  armed  resistance  was  in  most  places  imprac- 
ticable. The  attitude  of  the  department  of  war  at  Paris  was  regu^lated 
by  Buttafuoco,  and  was  of  coiu'se  hostile  to  the  insidious  scheme  of  a 
local  miUtia.  The  Minister  of  War  would  do  nothing  but  submit  the 
suggestion  to  the  body  against  whose  influence  it  was  aimed,  the  hated 
council  of  twelve  nobles.  The  stupid  sarcasm  of  such  a  step  was 
well-nigh  criminal. 

Under  such  instigation  the  flames  of  discontent  broke  out  in  Cor- 
sica. Paoli's  agents  were  again  most  active.  In  many  towns  the 
people  rose  to  attack  the  citadels  or  ban-acks,  and  to  seize  the  authority. 
In  Ajaccio  Napoleon  de  Buonaparte  promptly  asserted  himself  as  the 
natui'al  leader.  The  ah-eady  existing  democratic  club  was  rapidly  or- 
ganized into  the  nucleus  of  a  home  guard,  and  recruited  in  numbers. 
But  there  were  none  of  PaoH's  mountaineers  to  aid  the  unwarlike 
burghers,  as  there  had  been  in  Bastia.  Graffori  appeared  on  the  scene, 
but  neither  the  magic  of  his  name,  the  troops  that  accompanied  him, 
nor  the  adverse  representations  of  the  council,  which  he  brought  with 
him,  could  allay  the  discontent.  He  therefore  remained  for  thi-ee  days 
in  seclusion,  and  then  departed  in  secret.  On  the  other  hand,  the  popu- 
lace was  intimidated,  permitting  without  resistance  the  rooms  of  the 
club  to  be  closed  by  the  troops,  and  the  town  to  be  put  under  martial 
law.  Nothing  remained  for  the  agitators  but  to  protest  and  disperse. 
They  held  a  final  meeting  therefore  on  October  thh'ty-fii'st,  1789,  in  one 
of  the  churches,  and  signed  an  appeal  to  the  National  Assembly,  to  be 
presented  by  Salicetti  and  Colonna.  It  had  been  written,  and  was 
read  aloud,  by  Buonaparte,  as  he  now  signed  himself.  Some  share  in 
its  composition  was  later  claimed  for  Joseph,  but  the  fiery  style,  the 
numerous  blunders  in  grammar  and  spelhng,  the  terse  thought,  and 
the  concise  form,  are  all  characteristic  of  Napoleon.  The  right  of  peti- 
tion, the  recital  of  unjust  acts,  the  illegal  action  of  the  coimcil,  the  use 
of  force,  the  hollowness  of  the  pretexts  imder  which  their  request  had 


g^  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^Et.  20-21 

Chap,  vm  been  refused,  the  demand  that  the  troops  be  withdrawn  and  redress 
17^  granted  —  all  these  are  crudely  but  forcibly  presented.  The  document 
presages  revolution.  Under  a  well-constituted  and  regular  authority, 
its  writer  and  signatories  would  of  com-se  have  been  punished  for  in- 
subordination. Even  as  things  were,  an  ofl&cer  of  the  King  was  run- 
ning serious  risks  by  his  prominence  in  connection  with  it. 

Discouraging  as  was  the  outcome  of  this  movement  in  Ajaccio,  sim- 
ilar agitations  elsewhere  were  more  successful.  The  men  of  Isola 
Rossa,  under  Arena,  who  had  just  returned  from  a  consultation  with 
Paoh  in  England,  were  entirely  successful  in  seizing  the  supreme  au- 
thority; so  were  those  of  Bastia,  under  Murati,  a  devoted  friend  of 
Paoh.  One  untrustworthy  authority,  a  personal  enemy  of  Buonaparte, 
declares  that  the  latter,  thwarted  in  his  own  town,  at  once  went  over 
to  Bastia,  then  the  residence  of  the  French  royalist  governor,  and  suc- 
cessfully directed  the  revolt  m  that  place,  but  there  is  no  corroborative 
evidence  to  this  doiibtful  story. 

Simultaneously  with  these  events  the  National  Assembly  had  been 
debating  how  the  position  of  the  Eang  under  the  new  constitution  was 
to  be  expressed  by  his  title.  Absolutism  being  ended,  he  could  no 
longer  be  king  of  France,  a  style  which  to  men  then  hving  imphed 
ownership.  King  of  the  French  was  selected  as  the  new  form ;  should 
they  add  "  and  of  Navarre  " "?  SaHcetti,  with  consiunmate  diplomacy, 
had  ah-eady  warned  many  of  his  fellow-delegates  of  the  danger  lest 
England  should  intervene  in  Corsica,  and  France  lose  one  of  her  best 
recruiting-grounds.  To  his  compatriots  he  set  forth  that  France  was 
the  best  protector,  whether  they  desired  partial  or  complete  indepen- 
dence. He  now  suggested  that  if  the  Assembly  thus  recognized  the 
separate  identity  of  the  Pyrenean  people,  they  must  supplement  their 
phrase  still  further  by  the  words  "  and  of  Corsica " ;  for  it  had  been 
only  nominally,  and  as  a  pledge,  that  Genoa  in  1768  had  put  France  in 
control.  At  this  stage  of  the  debate,  Vohiey  presented  a  number  of 
formal  demands  from  the  Corsican  patriots  asking  that  the  position  of 
their  country  be  defined.  One  of  these  papers  certainly  came  from 
Bastia ;  among  them  also  was  probably  the  document  which  had  been 
executed  at  Ajaccio.  This  was  the  culmination  of  the  skilful  revolu- 
tionary agitation  which  had  been  started  and  directed  by  Masseria 
under  Paoh's  guidance.  The  anomalous  position  of  both  Corsica  and 
Navarre  was  clearly  depicted  in  the  mere  presentation  of  such  petitions. 


ITNr.RAVED    BY    R.    O.    TIETZE 


PASCAL  PAOLI 

FROM    THE    PAINTING    BY    DBELLINO,    UADE    IN    PABIS,    1791 


^T.  20-21]  BONAPARTE    AND    REVOLUTION    IN    CORSICA  65 

"  If  the  Navarrese  are  not  French,  what  have  we  to  do  wath  them,  or  chap.  viii 
they  with  us  ?  "  said  Mirabeau.  The  argument  was  as  unanswerable  i789-9o 
for  one  land  as  for  the  other,  and  both  were  ineoi"porated  in  the  realm : 
Corsica  on  November  thirtieth,  by  a  proposition  of  Sahcetti's,  who  was 
apparently  unwilling,  but  who  posed  as  one  under  imperative  necessity. 
In  reality  he  had  reached  the  goal  foi"  which  he  had  long  been  striving. 
Dmnom-iez,  later  so  renowned  as  a  general,  and  Mirabeau,  the  gi-eat 
statesman  and  orator,  had  both  been  members  of  the  French  army  of 
occupation  which  had  reduced  Corsica  to  submission.  The  latter  now 
recalled  his  misdeed  with  sorrow  and  shame  in  an  impassioned  plea 
for  amnesty  to  all  pohtical  offenders,  including  Paoh.  There  was  bitter 
opposition,  but  the  great  orator  prevailed. 

The  news  was  received  in  Corsica  with  every  manifestation  of  joy ; 
bonfires  were  lighted,  and  Te  Deiuns  were  sung  in  the  churches.  Paoli 
to  rejoin  his  own  again !  What  more  could  disinterested  patriots  de- 
sire ?  Corsica  a  province  of  France  !  How  could  her  aspiring  youth 
secure  a  wider  field  for  the  exercise  of  their  powers,  and  the  attainment 
of  ambitious  ends  ?  The  desires  of  both  parties  were  temporarily  ful- 
filled. The  names  of  Mirabeau,  Salicetti,  and  Volney  were  shouted 
with  acclaim,  those  of  Buttafuoco  and  Peretti  with  reprobation.  The 
regular  troops  were  withdrawn  fi-om  Ajaccio ;  the  ascendancy  of  the 
hberals  was  complete. 

Then  feeble  Genoa  was  heard  once  more.  She  had  pledged  the 
sovereignty,  not  sold  it ;  had  yielded  its  exercise,  and  not  the  thing  it- 
self;  France  might  administer  the  government  as  she  chose,  but  an- 
nexation was  another  matter.  She  appealed  to  the  fairness  of  the  King 
and  the  National  Assembly  to  safeguard  her  treaty  rights.  Her  tone 
was  querulous,  her  words  without  force.  In  the  Assembly  the  pro- 
test was  but  fuel  to  the  fire.  On  January  twenty-first,  1790,  occmred 
an  animated  debate  ia  which  the  matter  was  fuUy  considered.  The 
discussion  was  notable,  as  indicating  the  temper  of  parties  and  the  na- 
ture of  their  action  at  that  stage  of  the  Revolution.  Mirabeau  as  ever 
was  the  leader.  He  and  his  fi-iends  were  scornful  not  only  because 
of  Genoa's  temerity  in  seeming  still  to  claim  what  France  had  con- 
quered, but  of  her  conception  that  mere  paper  contracts  were  bmding 
where  principles  of  pubHc  law  were  concerned !  The  opposition  mildly 
but  firmly  recalled  the  existence  of  other  nations  than  France,  and  sug- 
gested the  consequences  of  international  bad  faith.     The  conclusion  of 


66 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  20-21 


Chap,  viii    the  matter  was  the  adoption  of  a  cimning  and  insolent  combination  of 

1789^90      two  propositions,  one  made  by  each  side,  "  to  lay  the  request  on  the 

table,  or  to  explain  that  there  is  no  occasion  for  its  consideration." 

The  incident  is  otherwise  important  only  in  the  hght  of  Napoleon's 

futm-e  dealings  with  the  Itahan  commonwealth. 

The  situation  was  now  most  diehcate,  as  far  as  Buonaparte  was  con- 
cerned. His  suggestion  of  a  local  mihtia  contemplated  the  extension 
of  the  revolutionary  movement  to  Corsica.  His  appeal  to  the  National 
Assembly  demanded  merely  the  right  to  do  what  one  French  city  or 
district  after  another  had  done,  to  establish  local  authority,  to  form  a 
National  Guard,  and  to  tmfurl  the  red,  white,  and  blue.  There  was 
nothing  in  it  about  the  incorporation  of  Corsica  in  France ;  that  had 
come  about  through  the  insurgents  of  Bastia,  who  had  been  organized 
by  Paoh,  inspired  by  the  attempt  at  Ajaccio,  and  guided  at  last  by  Sa- 
hcetti.  A  httle  later  Buonaparte  took  pains  to  set  forth  how  much 
better,  under  his  plan,  would  have  been  the  situation  of  Corsican  affairs 
if,  with  their  guard  organized  and  their  colors  mounted,  they  coidd 
have  recalled  Paoh,  and  have  awaited  the  event  with  power  either  to 
reject  such  propositions  as  the  royahsts,  if  successful,  would  have 
made,  or  to  accept  the  conclusions  of  the  French  Assembly  with 
proper  self-respect,  and  not  on  compulsion.  Hitherto  he  had  lost  no 
opportunity  to  express  his  hatred  of  France ;  it  is  possible  that  he  had 
planned  the  virtual  independence  of  Corsica,  with  himself  as  the  hbera- 
tor,  or  at  least  as  Paoh's  Sampiero.  The  reservations  of  his  Ajaccio 
document,  and  the  bitterness  of  his  feehngs,  are  not,  however,  suffi- 
cient proof  of  such  a  presumption.  But  the  incorporation  had  taken 
place,  Corsica  was  a  portion  of  France,  and  everybody  was  wild  with 
dehght. 


CHAPTER  IX 

FIRST  LESSONS  IN  REVOLUTION 

Feench  Soldier  and  Coesican  Patriot — Paoli's  Hesitancy — His 
Return  to  Corsica  —  Cross  Purposes  in  France — A  New  Fur- 
lough— Money  Transactions  of  Napoleon  and  Joseph — Open 
Hostilities  against  France — Thwarted  a  Second  Time — Reor- 
ganization OF  CoRsicAN  Administration — Meeting  of  Bonaparte 

AND   PaOLI — CORSICAN   POLITICS — STUDIES  IN   SOCIETY. 

WHAT  was  to  be  the  futui-e  of  one  whose  f eehngs  were  so  hostile  Chap.  es 
to  the  nation  with  the  fortunes  of  which  he  now  seemed  uTev-  1790 
ocably  identified"?  There  is  no  evidence  that  Buonaparte  ever  asked 
himseK  such  disquieting  questions.  To  judge  from  his  conduct,  he  was 
not  in  the  least  troubled.  Fully  aware  of  the  disorganization,  both 
social  and  mihtary,  which  was  well-nigh  imiversal  in  France,  with  two 
months  more  of  his  furlough  yet  unexpired,  he  awaited  developments, 
not  hastening  to  meet  difficrdties  before  they  presented  themselves. 
What  the  young  democrats  could  do,  they  did.  The  town  government 
was  entirely  reorganized,  with  a  friend  of  the  Buonapartes  as  mayor, 
and  Joseph — employed  at  last ! — as  his  secretary.  A  local  guard  was 
also  raised  and  equipped.  Being  French,  however,  and  not  Corsican, 
Napoleon  could  not  accept  a  command  in  it,  for  he  was  ah'eady  an  offi- 
cer in  the  French  army.  But  he  served  in  the  I'auks  as  a  common 
soldier,  and  was  an  ardent  agitator  in  the  club,  which  almost  imme- 
diately reopened  its  doors.  In  the  impossibihty  of  further  action 
there  was  a  relapse  into  authorship.  The  history  of  Corsica  was  again 
revised,  though  not  softened,  and  dedicated  to  Raynal.  In  coUabora- 
tion  with  Fesch,  Buonaparte  also  drew  up  a  memoir  on  the  oath  which 
was  required  from  priests. 

When  Paoh  first  received  news   of  the  amnesty  granted  at  the 


68 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 


Chap.  IX  instance  of  Mirabeau,  and  of  the  action  taken  by  the  French  Assembly, 
iTOO  which  had  made  Corsica  a  French  department,  he  was  deUghted  and 
deeply  moved.  His  noble  instincts  told  him  at  once  that  he  could 
no  longer  hve  in  the  enjoyment  of  an  English  pension  or  even  in 
England;  for  he  was  convinced  that  his  country  would  eventually 
reach  a  more  perfect  autonomy  under  France  than  under  the  wing 
of  any  other  power,  and  that  as  a  patriot  he  must  not  fail  even  in 
appearance  to  maintain  that  position.  But  he  also  felt  that  his  retimi 
to  Corsica  would  endanger  the  success  of  this  pohcy :  the  ardent  moun- 
taineers would  demand  more  extreme  measures  for  complete  indepen- 
dence than  he  could  take;  the  lowlanders  would  be  angry  at  the 
attitude  of  sympathy  with  his  old  friends  which  he  must  assume.  In 
a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  therefore,  he  made  ready  to  exchange  his 
comfortable  exile  for  one  more  uncongenial  and  of  com-se  more  bitter. 

But  the  National  Assembly,  with  less  insight,  desired  nothing  so 
much  as  his  presence  in  the  new  French  department.  He  was  growing 
old,  and  yielded  against  his  better  judgment  to  the  united  sohcitation 
of  French  interest  and  of  Corsican  impohcy.  Passing  through  France, 
he  was  detained  for  over  two  months  by  the  ovations  forced  upon  him. 
In  Paris  the  King  urged  him  to  accept  honors  of  every  kind ;  but  they 
were  firmly  refused :  the  reception,  however,  which  the  Assembly  gave 
"him  in  the  name  of  hberty,  he  declared  to  be  the  proudest  occasion 
of  his  hfe.  At  Lyons  the  populace  crowded  the  streets  to  cheer  him, 
and  delegations  from  the  chief  towns  of  his  native  island  met  bim  to 
sohcit  for  each  of  their  respective  cities  the  honor  of  his  landing.  On 
July  foiu-teenth,  1790,  after  twenty-one  years  of  exile,  the  now  aged 
hero  set  foot  on  Corsican  land  at  Maginajo,  near  Capo  Corso.  His  first 
act  was  to  kneel  and  kiss  the  soil.  The  nearest  town  was  Bastia,  the 
revolutionary  capital.  There  and  elsewhere  the  rejoicings  were  gen- 
eral, and  the  ceremonies  were  such  as  only  the  warm  hearts  and  wiUing 
hands  of  a  primitive  Italian  people  could  devise  and  perform.  Not 
one  true  Corsican  but  must  "see  and  hear  and  touch  him."  But  in  less 
than  a  month  his  conduct  was,  as  he  had  foreseen,  so  misrepresented 
by  friend  and  foe  alike,  that  it  was  necessary  to  defend  him  in  Paris 
against  the  charge  of  scheming  to  hand  over  the  island  to  England. 

It  is  not  entirely  clear  where  Buonaparte  was  diu-ing  this  time. 
It  is  said  that  he  was  seen  in  Valence  during  the  latter  part  of  Janu- 
ary, and  the  fact  is  adduced  to  show  how  deep  and  secret  were  his 


r- 
> 
z 

D 

Z 
O 

o 

•D 

-0 

> 

O 


O 

z 

o 

o 

n 
> 
z 

O 


« 


^T.  21]  FIRST    LESSONS    IN    REVOLUTION  69 

plans  for  preserving  the  double  cliance  of  an  opening  in  either  France  crap.  ix 
or  Corsica,  as  matters  might  tm-n  out.  The  love-affair  to  which  he  mo 
refers  in  that  thesis  on  the  topic  to  which  reference  has  been  made 
would  be  an  equally  satisfactory  explanation,  considering  his  age. 
Whatever  was  the  fact  as  to  those  few  days,  he  was  not  absent  long. 
The  serious  division  between  the  executive  in  France  and  the  new 
Assembly  came  to  hght  in  an  ugly  circumstance  which  occmTed  in 
March.  On  the  eighteenth  a  French  flotilla  imexpectedly  appeared 
off  St.  Florent.  It  was  commanded  by  Rully,  an  ardent  royaUst,  who 
had  long  been  employed  in  Corsica.  His  secret  instructions  were  to 
embark  the  French  troops,  and  to  leave  the  island  to  its  fate.  This 
was  an  adroit  stab  at  the  republicans  of  the  Assembly;  for,  should 
the  evacuation  be  secured,  it  was  believed  that  either  the  radicals  in 
Corsica  would  rise,  overpower,  and  destroy  the  friends  of  France,  call  in 
Enghsh  help,  and  diminish  the  number  of  democratic  departments  by 
one,  or  that  Genoa  would  immediately  step  in  and^  reassert  her  sov- 
ereignty. The  moderates  of  St.  Florent  were  not  to  be  thus  duped ; 
sharp  and  angry  discussions  arose  among  both  citizens  and  troops  as 
to  the  obedience  due  to  such  orders,  and  soon  both  soldiers  and  towns- 
folk were  in  a  frenzy  of  excitement.  A  collision  between  the  two 
parties  occurred,  and  Rully  was  killed.  Papers  were  found  on  his  per- 
son which  proved  that  his  sympathizers  would  gladly  have  abandoned 
Corsica  to  its  fate.  For  the  moment  the  young  Corsicans  were  more 
devoted  than  ever  to  Paoh,  since  now  only  thi'ough  his  good  offices 
with  the  French  Assembly  could  a  chance  for  the  success  of  their 
plans  be  secured. 

Such  was  the  diversity  of  opinion  as  to  ways  and  means,  as  to 
resources,  opportunities,  and  details,  that  everything  was,  for  the  mo- 
ment, in  confusion.  On  April  sixteenth  Buonaparte  applied  for  an 
extension  of  his  fui'lough  until  the  following  October,  on  the  plea  of 
continued  ill  health,  that  he  might  di*ink  the  waters  a  second  time  at 
Orezza,  whose  springs,  he  explained,  had  shown  themselves  to  be  effica- 
cious in  his  complaint.  He  may  have  been  at  that  resort  once  before, 
or  he  may  not.  Doubtless  the  fever  was  still  lingering  in  his  system. 
What  the  degree  of  his  illness  was  we  cannot  tell.  It  may  have  un- 
fitted him  for  active  service  with  his  regiment ;  it  did  not  disable  him 
from  piu-suing  his  occupations  in  writing  and  political  agitation.  His 
request  was  granted  on  May  twentieth.     The  history  of  Corsica  was 


70  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 

Chap.  IX  now  finally  revised,  and  a  new  dedication  completed.  This,  with  a 
1790  letter  and  some  chapters  of  the  book,  was  forwarded  to  Kaynal, 
probably  by  post.  Joseph,  who  was  one  of  the  delegates  to  meet  Paoh, 
would  pass  through  Marseilles,  wrote  Napoleon  to  the  abbe,  and  would 
hand  him  the  rest  if  he  should  so  desire.  The  text  of  the  unlucky 
book  was  not  materially  altered.  Its  theory  appears  always  to  have 
been  that  history  is  but  a  succession  of  great  names,  and  the  story, 
therefore,  is  more  a  biographical  record  than  a  connected  nari'ative. 
The  dedication,  however,  is  a  new  step  in  the  painful  progress  of  more 
accurate  thinking  and  better  expression ;  the  additions  to  the  volume 
contam,  amid  many  immatmities  and  platitudes,  some  ripe  and  clever 
thought.  Buonaparte's  passion  for  his  banthng  is  once  more  the  ardor 
of  a  misdirected  genius,  unsuUied  by  the  desire  for  money,  which  had 
played  a  temporary  part. 

We  know  nothing  definite  of  his  pecuniary  affairs,  but  somehow  or 
other  his  fortunes  must  have  mended.  There  is  no  other  explanation  of 
his  numerous  and  costly  journeys,  and  we  hear  that  for  a  time  he  had 
money  in  his  piu'se.  In  the  will  which  he  dictated  at  St.  Helena  is  a 
bequest  of  one  hundred  thousand  francs  to  the  children  of  his  friend  who 
was  the  first  mayor  of  Ajaccio  by  the  popular  will.  It  is  not  unhkely 
that  the  legacy  was  a  grateful  souvenir  of  advances  made  about  this 
time.  There  is  another  possible  explanation.  The  club  of  Ajaccio  had 
chosen  a  delegation,  of  which  Joseph  Buonaparte  was  a  member,  to 
bring  Paoh  home  fi'om  France.  To  meet  its  expenses,  the  municipahty 
had  forced  the  authorities  of  the  priests'  seminary  to  open  their  strong 
box  and  to  hand  over  upward  of  two  thousand  francs.  Napoleon  may 
have  shared  Joseph's  portion.  We  should  be  reminded  m  such  a  stroke, 
but  with  a  difference,  to  be  sure,  of  what  happened  when,  a  few  years 
later,  the  hungry  and  ragged  soldiers  of  the  Eepubhc  were  led  into  the 
fat  plains  of  Lombardy. 

The  contemptuous  attitude  of  the  Ajaccio  hberals  toward  the  re- 
hgion  of  Rome  seriously  ahenated  the  superstitious  populace  fi'om 
them.  Buonaparte  was  once  attacked  in  the  public  square  by  a  pro- 
cession organized  to  deprecate  the  pohcy  of  the  National  Assembly 
with  regard  to  the  ecclesiastical  estates.  One  of  the  few  royahst 
officials  left  in  Corsica  also  took  advantage  of  the  general  disorder  to 
express  his  feehngs  plainly  as  to  the  acts  of  the  same  body.  He  was 
arrested,  tried  in  Ajaccio,  and  acquitted  by  a  sympathetic  judge.    At 


> 

o 

> 
O 

n 

tr. 

5 


^T.  21]  FIRST    LESSONS    IN    REVOLUTION 


71 


once  the  liberals  took  alai-m ;  theii-  club  and  the  officials  first  pro-  chap.  ix 
tested,  and  then  on  Jime  twenty-fifth  assumed  the  offensive  in  the  iv9o 
name  of  the  Assembly.  At  last  the  oi^poi-tunity  to  emulate  the  French 
cities  seemed  assui-ed.  It  was  determined  to  organize  a  local  indepen- 
dent government,  seize  the  citadel  with  the  help  of  the  home  guard, 
and  thi-ow  the  hated  royalists  into  prison.  But  the  preparations  were 
too  open :  the  governor  and  most  of  his  friends  fled  in  season  to  their 
stronghold,  and  raised  the  di-awbridge ;  the  agitators  could  lay  hands 
on  but  fom'  of  their  enemies,  among  whom  were  the  judge,  the  of- 
fender, and  an  officer  of  the  gamson.  So  great  was  the  disappoint- 
ment of  the  radicals  that  they  would  have  vented  then*  spite  on  these ; 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  the  lives  of  the  prisoners  were  saved  by  the 
efforts  of  the  militia  officers.  The  garrison  really  sympathized  with 
the  insurgents,  and  would  not  obey  orders  to  suppress  the  rising  by  an 
attack.  In  retirni  for  this  forbearance  the  regtdar  soldiers  stipulated 
for  the  hberation  of  their  officer.  In  the  end  the  chief  offenders  among 
the  radicals  were  punished  by  imprisonment  or  banished,  and  the 
tumult  subsided ;  but  the  French  officials  now  had  strong  support,  not 
only  from  the  hierarchy,  as  before,  but  fi*om  the  plain  pious  people  and 
their  priests. 

This  result  was  a  second  defeat  for  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  who  was 
almost  certainly  the  instigator  and  leader  of  the  uprising.  He  had 
been  ready  at  any  moment  to  assume  the  direction  of  affairs,  but  again 
the  outcome  of  such  a  movement  as  could  alone  secxn-e  a  possible  tem- 
porary independence  for  Corsica  and  a  mihtaiy  command  for  himself 
was  absolutely  naught.  Little  perturbed  by  failm-e,  he  took  up  the 
pen  to  wi*ite  a  proclamation  justifying  the  action  of  the  municipal 
authorities.  The  paper  was  fearlessly  signed  by  himseK  and  the  other 
leaders,  including  the  mayor.  It  execrates  the  sympathizers  with  the 
old  order  in  France,  and  lauds  the  Assembly,  with  all  its  works ;  de- 
nounces those  who  sold  the  land  to  France,  which  could  offer  nothing 
but  an  end  of  the  chaiu  that  boimd  herself ;  and  warns  the  enemies  of 
,the  new  constitution  that  then-  day  is  over.  There  is  a  longing  refer- 
ence to  the  ideal  self-determination  which  the  previous  attempt  might 
have  secured.  The  present  rising  is  justified,  however,  as  an  effort  to 
carry  out  the  piinciples  of  the  new  charter.  There  are  the  same  sug- 
gested force  and  suppressed  fmy  as  in  his  previous  manifesto,  the  same 
fervid  rhetoric,  the  same  lack  of  coherence  in  expression.     The  same 


72  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 

Chap.  IX  two  elements,  that  of  the  eighteenth-centmy  metaphysics  and  that  of 
1790  his  own  uncultured  force,  combine  in  the  composition.  Naturally 
enough,  the  uni-est  of  the  town  was  not  diminished ;  there  was  even  a 
sHght  collision  between  the  garrison  and  the  civil  authorities. 

Buonaparte  was  of  coiu'se  suspected  and  hated  by  Catholics  and 
mihtary  alike.  French  officer  though  he  was,  no  one  in  Corsica 
thought  of  him  otherwise  than  as  a  Corsican  revolutionist.  Among 
his  own  friends  he  continued  his  unswerving  career.  It  was  he  who 
wrote  and  read  the  address  from  Ajaccio  to  Paoli,  although  the  two 
men  did  not  meet  until  somewhat  later.  With  the  arrival  of  the  great 
Hberator  the  grasp  of  the  old  officials  on  the  island  relaxed,  and 
the  bluster  of  the  few  who  had  grown  rich  in  the  royal  service  ceased. 
The  Assembly  was  finally  triumphant;  this  new  department  was  at 
last  to  be  organized  like  those  of  the  adoptive  mother.  It  was  high 
time,  for  the  pubhc  order  was  seriously  endangered  in  this  transi- 
tion period.  The  disturbances  at  Ajaccio  were  trifling  compared  with 
the  revolutionary  procedure  inaugurated  and  carried  to  extremes  in 
Bastia.  Two  letters  of  Napoleon's  written  in  August  display  a  fever- 
ish spuit  of  unrest  in  himself,  and  enumerate  the  many  uprisings  in 
the  neighborhood  with  their  varying  degrees  of  success.  Under  pro- 
visional authority,  arrangements  were  made,  after  some  delay,  to  hold 
elections  for  the  officials  of  the  new  system  whose  legal  designation 
was  directors.  Then-  appointment  and  conduct  wotdd  be  determinative 
of  Corsica's  futiire,  and  were  therefore  of  the  highest  importance. 

In  a  pure  democracy  the  voters  assemble  to  deliberate  and  record 
their  decisions.  Such  were  the  local  district  meetings  in  Corsica. 
These  chose  the  representatives  to  the  central  constituent  assembly, 
which  was  to  meet  at  Orezza  on  September  ninth,  1790.  Joseph  Buo- 
naparte and  Fesch  were  among  the  members  sent  from  Ajaccio.  The 
healing  waters  wliich  Napoleon  wished  to  quaff  at  Orezza  were  the  in- 
fluence of  the  debates.  Although  he  could  not  be  a  member  of  the 
assembly  on  account  of  his  youth,  he  was  determined  to  be  present. 
The  three  relatives  traveled  from  their  home  in  company,  Joseph  en- 
chanted by  the  scenery.  Napoleon  studying  the  strategic  points  on  the 
way.  The  village  of  Rostino,  which  Paoh  had  dehcately  chosen  as  his 
temporary  home  in  order  that  his  presence  at  Orezza  might  not  unduly 
affect  the  course  of  events,  was  on  their  route.  There  occurred  the 
meeting  between  the  two  great  Corsicans,  the  man  of  ideas  and  the 


','  i'   I  '   '  A" 
'7,1/;,,.  / 


^T.  21]  FIRST   LESSONS    IN    REVOLUTION  73 

man  of  action.  No  doubt  Paoli  was  anxious  to  win  a  family  so  im-  Chap.  rx 
portant  and  a  patriot  so  ardent.  In  any  case,  he  invited  the  three  1790 
young  men  to  accompany  him  over  the  fatal  battle-gi-ound  of  Ponte- 
Nuovo.  If  Napoleon's  ambition  had  really  been  to  become  the  chief  of 
the  French  National  Guard  for  Corsica,  which  would  now,  in  all  prob- 
abihty,  be  fully  organized,  it  is  very  likely  that  he  would  have  exerted 
himself  to  secure  the  favor  of  the  only  man  who  could  fulfil  his  desire. 
There  is,  however,  a  tradition  which  tends  to  show  quite  the  contrary : 
it  is  said  that  after  PaoU  had  pointed  out  the  disposition  of  his  troops 
for  the  fatal  conflict  Napoleon  diyly  remarked,  "  The  resiilt  of  these 
arrangements  was  just  what  it  was  bound  to  be."  Among  the  Em- 
peror's reminiscences  at  the  close  of  his  hfe,  he  recalled  this  meeting, 
because  Paoh  had  on  that  occasion  declared  him  to  be  a  man  of  ancient 
mold,  hke  one  of  Plutarch's  heroes. 

The  constituent  assembly  at  Orezza  sat  for  a  month.  Its  sessions 
passed  almost  without  any  incident  of  importance  except  the  fii"st 
appearance  of  Napoleon  as  an  orator  in  various  public  meetings  held 
in  connection  with  its  labors.  He  is  said  to  have  been  bashful  and 
embarrassed  in  his  beginnings,  but,  inspirited  by  each  occasion,  to  have 
become  more  fluent,  and  finally  to  have  won  the  attention  and  applause 
of  his  hearers.  What  he  said  is  not  known,  but  he  spoke  in  Itahan, 
and  succeeded  in  his  design  of  being  at  least  a  personage  in  the  preg- 
nant events  now  occiuiing.  Both  parties  were  represented  in  the  pro- 
ceedings and  conclusions  of  the  convention.  Corsica  was  to  constitute 
but  a  single  department.  Paoh  was  elected  president  of  its  directory 
and  commander-in-chief  of  its  National  Guard,  a  combination  of  offices 
which  again  made  him  virtual  dictator.  He  accepted  them  unwillingly, 
but  the  honors  of  a  statue  and  an  annual  grant  of  ten  thousand  dollars, 
which  were  voted  at  the  same  time,  he  absolutely  declined.  The  Paohst 
party  secured  the  election  of  Canon  Belce  as  vice-president,  of  Pana- 
theri  as  secretary,  of  Arena  as  Salicetti's  substitute,  of  Pozzo  di  Borgo 
-  and  GentiU  as  members  of  the  directory.  Colonna,  one  of  the  delegates 
to  the  National  Assembly,  was  a  member  of  the  same  group.  The 
younger  patriots,  or  Young  Corsica,  as  we  should  say  now,  perhaps, 
were  represented  by  their  delegate  and  leader  Salicetti,  who  was  chosen 
as  plenipotentiary  in  Buttafiioco's  place,  and  by  Multedo,  GentUi,  and 
Pompei  as  members  of  the  directory.     For  the  moment,  however,  Paoli 

was  Corsica,  and  such  petty  politics  was  significant  only  as  indicating 

10 


74  LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 

Chap.  IX  tlie  siu'vival  of  counter-curreiits.  There  was  some  dissent  to  a  vote  of 
1790  censure  passed  upon  the  conduct  of  Buttafuoco  and  Peretti,  but  it  was 
insignificant.  Pozzo  di  Borgo  and  Gentih  were  chosen  to  declare  at 
the  bar  of  the  National  Assembly  the  devotion  of  Corsica  to  its  pur- 
poses, and  to  the  com-se  of  reform  as  represented  by  it.  They  were 
also  to  secure,  if  possible,  both  the  permission  to  form  a  departmental 
National  Guard,  and  the  means  to  pay  and  arm  it. 

The  choice  of  Pozzo  di  Borgo  for  a  mission  of  such  importance  in 
preference  to  Joseph  was  a  disappointment  to  the  Buonapartes.  In 
fact  not  one  of  the  plans  concerted  by  the  two  brothers  succeeded. 
Joseph  sustained  the  pretensions  of  Ajaccio  to  be  capital  of  the  island, 
but  the  honor  was  awarded  to  Bastia.  He  was  not  elected  a  member  of 
the  general  directory,  though  he  succeeded  in  being  made  a  member  for 
Ajaccio  in  the  district  directory.  Whether  to  work  off  his  ill  hiunor,  or 
fi-om  far-seeing  purpose,  Napoleon  used  the  hours  not  spent  in  wire-pull- 
ing and  listening  to  the  proceedings  of  the  assembly  for  making  a  series 
of  excursions  which  were  a  virtual  canvass  of  the  neighborhood.  The 
houses  of  the  poorest  were  his  resort. ;  partly  by  his  inborn  power  of 
pleasing,  partly  by  diplomacy,  he  won  their  hearts  and  learned  then.'  in- 
most feelings.  His  purse,  which  was  for  the  moment  full,  was  open 
for  their  gratification  in  a  way  which  moved  them  deeply.  For  years 
target-practice  had  been  forbidden,  as  giving  dangerous  skill  in  the  use 
of  aims.  Liberty  having  returned,  Napoleon  reorganized  many  of  the 
old  i-ui-al  festivals  in  which  contests  of  that  nature  had  been  the  chief 
featm-e,  offering  prizes  from  his  own  means  for  the  best  >- marksmen 
among  the  youth.  His  success  in  feeling  the  pulse  of  pubhc  opinion 
was  so  great  that  he  never  forgot  the  lesson.  Not  long  afterward, 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Valence, — in  fact,  to  the  latest  times, — he 
courted  the  society  of  the  lowly,  and  established,  when  possible,  a 
certain  intimacy  with  them.  This  gave  bim  popularity,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  enabled  him  to  obtain  the  most  valuable  indications  of  the 
general  temper. 


CHAPTER  X 


TKAITS  OF   CHABACTER 


LiTERAEY  Work — Essay  on  Happiness — Thwarted  Ambition — The 
CoRsiCAN  Patriots  —  The  Brothers  Napoleon  and  Louis  — 
Studies  in  Politics  —  Reorganization  of  the  Arjiy  —  The 
Change  in  Public  Opinion  —  Napoleon  Again  at  Auxonne  — 
Napoleon  as  a  Teacher  —  Further  Literary  Efforts  —  The 
Sentimental  Journey  —  His  Attitude  Toward  Religion. 

ON  Ms  retiim  to  Ajaccio,  the  rising  agitator  continued  as  before  to  chap.  x 
frequent  Ms  cMb.  The  action  of  the  convention  at  Orezza  in  1791 
displacing  Buttafuoco  had  inflamed  the  young  poHticians  still  more 
against  the  renegade.  TMs  effect  was  fui'ther  heightened  when  it  was 
known  that,  at  the  reception  of  their  delegates  by  the  National  Assem- 
bly, the  greater  council  had,  under  Mii'abeau's  leadership,  virtually 
taken  the  same  position  regarding  both  him  and  Ms  colleague.  Napo- 
leon had  written,  probably  in  the  previous  year,  a  notorious  diatribe 
against  Buttafuoco  in  the  form  of  a  letter  to  its  object,  and  the  very 
night  on  which  the  news  from  Paris  was  received,  he  seized  the  op- 
portunity to  read  it  before  the  club  at  Ajaccio.  The  paper,  as  now  in 
existence,  is  pompously  dated  January  twenty -thii-d,  1791,  from  "my 
summer  house  of  Milleh."  TMs  was  a  retreat  on  one  of  the  httle  family 
properties,  some  miles  from  the  town,  where  in  the  rocks  was  a  grotto 
known  familiarly  as  Milleh;  Napoleon  had  improved  and  beautified 
the  spot,  using  it,  as  he  did  his  garden  at  Brienne,  for  contemplation 
and  qmet  study.  Although  the  letter  to  Matteo  Buttafuoco  has  been 
often  printed,  and  was  its  author's  first  successful  effort  ia  wi-iting, 
much  emphasis  should  not  be  laid  on  it  except  in  noting  the  better 
power  to  express  tumultuous  feeling,  and  ia  marking  the  implications 
wMch  show  an  expansion  of  character.     Insubordinate  to  France  it 


76 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 


Chap.  X  Certainly  is,  and  intemperate ;  tiu'gid,  too,  as  any  youth  of  twenty 
1791  could  weU  make  it.  No  doubt,  also,  it  was  intended  to  secure  notori- 
ety for  the  wi'iter.  It  makes  clear  the  thorough  apprehension  its  au- 
thor had  as  to  the  radical  character  of  the  Revolution.  It  is  his  final 
and  public  renunciation  of  the  royalist  principles  of  Charles  de  Buona- 
parte. It  contains  also  the  last  profession  of  moraUty  which  a  youth 
is  not  ashamed  to  make  before  the  cynicism  of  his  own  life  becomes 
too  evident  for  the  castigation  of  selfishness  and  insincerity  in  others. 
Its  substance  is  a  just  reproach  to  a  selfish  trimmer ;  the  froth  and 
scum  are  characteristic  rather  of  the  time  and  the  circumstances  than 
of  the  personahty  behind  them.  There  is  no  further  mention  of  a 
difference  between  the  destinies  of  France  and  Corsica.  To  compare 
the  pamphlet  with  even  the  poorest  work  of  Rousseau,  as  has  often 
been  done,  is  absurd ;  to  vilify  it  as  ineffective  trash  is  equally  so. 

As  may  be  imagined,  the  "  Letter  "  was  received  with  mad  applause, 
and  ordered  to  be  printed.  It  was  now  the  close  of  January;  Buona- 
parte's leave  had  expired  on  October  fifteenth.  On  November  sixteenth, 
after  loitering  a  whole  month  beyond  his  time,  he  had  secured  a  docu- 
ment from  the  Ajaccio  officials  certifying  that  both  he  and  Louis  were 
devoted  to  the  new  repubhcan  order,  and  bespeaking  assistance  for  both 
in  any  difficulties  which  might  arise.  The  busy  Corsican  perfectly  un- 
derstood that  he  might  already  at  that  time  be  regarded  as  a  deserter  in 
France,  but  still  he  continued  his  dangerous  loitering.  He  had  two  ob- 
jects in  view,  one  hterary,  one  political.  Besides  the  successful  "Letter" 
he  had  been  occupied  with  a  second  composition,  the  notion  of  which 
had  probably  occupied  him  as  his  purse  grew  leaner.  The  juiy  before 
which  this  was  to  be  laid  was  to  be,  however,  not  a  heated  body  of  young 
political  agitators,  but  an  association  of  old  and  mature  men  with  calm, 
critical  minds  —  the  Lyons  Academy.  That  society  was  finally  about 
to  award  a  prize  of  fifteen  hundred  livres  founded  by  Raynal  as  long 
before  as  1780  for  the  best  thesis  on  the  question :  "  Has  the  discov- 
ery of  America  been  useful  or  hurtful  to  the  human  race?  If  the 
former,  how  shall  we  best  preserve  and  increase  the  benefits  ?  If  the 
latter,  how  shall  we  remedy  the  evils  ?  "  Americans  must  regret  that 
the  learned  body  had  been  compelled  for  lack  of  interest  in  so  concrete 
a  subject  to  change  the  theme,  and  now  offered  in  its  place  the  ques- 
tion: "What  truths  and  ideas  should  be  inculcated  in  order  best  to 
promote  the  happiness  of  mankind  ?  " 


W   TUB   MUSEUM   Of    VEBaAlLLiiS 


I.KAVLD     liV     T.    JOli>'BON 


NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 

LIEUTENANT-COLONEL   OF   THE    FIRST   BATTALION    OF    CORSICA 


FROM    THK    CAINTINO    BT    H.    K,    ¥     PHILIPPOTEAUX 


^T.  21]  TRAITS    OF    CHARAOTER 


77 


Napoleon's  astounding  paper  on  this  remarkable  theme  was  finished  chap,  x 
ia  December.  It  bears  the  marks  of  carelessness,  haste,  and  over-con-  irai 
fidence  ia  every  direction — in  style,  in  content,  and  in  lack  of  accuracy, 
"Illustrious  Raynal,"  writes  the  author,  "the  question  I  am  about  to 
discuss  is  worthy  of  your  graver,  but  without  assuming  to  be  steel  of 
the  same  temper,  I  have  taken  courage,  saying  to  myself  with  CoiTeggio, 
I,  too,  am  a  painter."  Thereupon  follows  a  long  encomium  upon  Paoli, 
whose  principal  merit  is  explained  to  have  been  that  he  strove  in 
his  legislation  to  keep  for  every  man  a  property  sufiicient  with  mod- 
erate exertion  on  his  own  part  for  the  sustenance  of  life.  Happiness 
consists  in  Hving  conformably  to  the  constitution  of  our  organization. 
Wealth  is  a  misfortune,  primogeniture  a  rehc  of  barbarism,  cehbacy 
a  reprehensible  practice.  Our  animal  nature  demands  food,  shelter, 
clothing,  and  the  companionship  of  woman.  These  are  the  essen- 
tials of  happiness ;  but  for  its  perfection  we  require  both  reason  and 
sentiment.  These  theses  are  the  tolerable  portions,  being  discussed 
with  some  coherence.  But  much  of  the  essay  is  mere  meaningless 
rhetoric  and  bombast,  which  sounds  hke  the  effusion  of  a  boyish 
rhapsodist.  "At  the  sound  of  your  [reason's]  voice  let  the  enemies 
of  nature  be  still,  and  swallow  their  serpents'  tongues  in  rage."  "  The 
eyes  of  reason  restrain  mankind  from  the  precipice  of  the  passions, 
as  her  decrees  modify  likewise  the  feeling  of  their  rights."  Many 
other  passages  of  equal  absurdity  could  be  quoted,  full  of  far-fetched 
metaphor,  abounding  in  strange  terms,  straining  rhetorical  figures  to 
distortion.  And  yet  in  spite  of  the  bombast,  certain  essential  Napo- 
leonic ideas  appear  in  the  paper  much  as  they  endured  to  the  end, 
namely,  those  on  heredity,  on  the  equal  division  of  property,  and  on  the 
nature  of  civil  society.  And  there  is  one  prophetic  sentence  which  de- 
serves to  be  quoted.  "  A  disordered  imagination !  there  hes  the  cause 
and  source  of  human  misfortune.  It  sends  us  wandering  fi'om  sea  to 
sea,  from  fancy  to  fancy,  and  when  at  last  it  grows  calm,  opportunity 
has  passed,  the  hour  strikes,  and  its  possessor  dies  abhorring  life."  In 
later  days  the  author  threw  what  he  probably  supposed  was  the  only 
existing  manuscript  of  this  vaporing  effusion  into  the  fire.  But  a  copy 
of  it  had  been  made  at  Lyons,  perhaps  because  one  of  the  judges 
thought,  as  he  said,  that  it  "  might  have  been  written  by  a  man  other- 
wise gifted  with  common  sense."  Another  has  been  foimd  among  the 
papers  confided  by  Napoleon  to  Fesch.     The  proofs  of  authenticity  are 


rjg  LIFE    OF  NAPOLEON   BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 

Chap.  X  complete.  It  seems  miraculous  that  its  writer  should  have  become,  as 
1791  he  did,  master  of  a  concise  and  nervous  style  when  once  his  words  be- 
came the  complement  of  his  deeds. 

The  second  cause  for  Buonaparte's  delay  in  returning  to  France  on 
the  expiration  of  his  fvu'lough  was  his  political  and  military  ambition. 
This  was  suddenly  quenched  by  the  receipt  of  news  that  the  Assembly 
at  Paris  would  not  create  the  longed-for  National  Guard,  nor  the  min- 
istry lend  itself  to  any  plan  for  circumventing  the  law.  It  was,  there- 
fore, evident  that  every  chance  of  becoming  PaoU's  Ueutenant  was 
finally  gone.  By  the  advice  of  the  president  himself,  therefore,  Buona- 
parte determined  to  withdraw  once  more  to  France  and  to  await  re- 
sults. Corsica  was  stiU  distracted.  A  French  official  sent  by  the  war 
department  just  at  this  time  to  report  on  its  condition  is  not  sparing  of 
the  language  he  uses  to  denounce  the  independent  feehng  and  anti- 
French  sympathies  of  the  people.  "The  Itahan,"  he  says,  "acquiesces, 
but  does  not  forgive ;  an  ambitious  man  keeps  no  faith,  and  estimates 
his  hfcby  his  power."  The  agent  fm'ther  describes  the  Corsicans  as  so 
accustomed  to  Tinrest  by  forty  years  of  anarchy  that  they  would  gladly 
seize  the  first  occasion  to  throw  off  the  domination  of  laws  which  re- 
strain'the  social  disorder.  The  Buonaparte  faction,  enumerated  with 
the  patriot  brigand  Zampaghni  at  their  head,  he  calls  "  despicable  crea- 
tures," "  ruined  in  reputation  and  credit." 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  higher  compliment  to  Paoli  and  his 
friends,  considering  the  som"ce  fi-om  which  these  words  emanated.  They 
were  aU  poor  and  they  were  all  in  debt.  Even  now,  in  the  age  of  re- 
form, they  saw  their  most  cherished  plans  thwarted  by  the  presence  in 
every  town  of  garrisons  the  officers  and  men  of  which,  though  long 
resident  in  the  island,  and  attached  to  its  people  by  many  ties,  were 
nevertheless  conservative  in  their  feelings,  and,  by  the  instinct  of  then- 
tradition  and  discipline,  devoted  to  the  still  powerful  official  bureaus 
not  yet  destroyed  by  the  Revolution.  To  replace  these  by  a  well-or- 
ganized and  equipped  National  Guard  was  now  the  most  ardent  wish 
of  aU  patriots.  There  was  nothing  unworthy  in  Napoleon's  longing  for 
a  command  under  the  much  desired  but  ever  elusive  reconstitution  of  a 
force  armed  according  to  the  model  furnished  by  France  itself.  Re- 
peated disappointments  hke  those  he  had  suffered  before,  and  was 
experiencing  again,  would  have  crushed  a  common  man. 

But  the  young  author  had  his  manuscripts  in  Ms  pocket ;   one  of 


^T.21]  TRAITS    OF    CHARACTER  79 

them  he  had  means  and  anthority  to  pubhsh.  Perfectly  aware,  more-  chap,  x 
over,  of  the  disorganization  in  the  nation  and  the  anny,  careless  of  the  1791 
order  fulminated  on  December  second,  1790,  against  absent  officers, 
which  he  knew  to  be  aimed  especially  at  the  young  nobles  who  were 
deserting  in  troops,  with  his  spmt  undaunted,  and  his  brain  full  of 
resoxu'ces,  he  left  Ajaccio  on  February  first,  1791,  having  secru'ed  a 
new  set  of  certificates  as  to  his  patriotism  and  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
the  Revolution.  Like  the  good  son  and  the  good  brother  which  he  had 
always  been,  he  was  not  forgetful  of  his  family.  Life  at  his  home  had 
not  become  easier.  Joseph,  to  be  siu'e,  had  an  office  and  a  career,  but 
the  younger  children  were  becoming  a  source  of  expense,  and  Lucien 
would  not  accept  the  provision  which  had  been  made  for  him.  The 
next  to  be  educated  and  placed  was  Louis,  now  between  twelve  and 
thirteen  years  old  ;  accordingly  Louis  accompanied  his  brother.  Napo- 
leon had  no  promise,  not  even  an  outlook,  for  the  boy ;  but  he  deter- 
mined to  have  him  at  hand  in  case  anything  should  turn  up,  and  while 
waiting  to  give  liim  fi'om  his  own  slender  means  whatever  precarious 
education  the  times  and  circiunstances  could  afford.  We  can  under- 
stand the  untroubled  confidence  of  the  boy ;  we  must  admire  the  trust, 
determination,  and  self-rehance  of  the  elder  brother. 

Not  only  was  there  no  pimishment  in  store  for  Napoleon  on  his  ar- 
rival at  Auxonne,  but  there  was  considerate  regard,  and,  later,  promo- 
tion. The  brothers  had  traveled  slowly,  stopping  first  for  a  short  time 
at  Marseilles,  and  then  at  Aix  to  visit  friends,  and  wandering  several 
days  in  a  leisurely  way  through  the  parts  of  Dauphiny  round  about 
Valence.  Associating  again  with  the  country  people,  and  forming 
opinions  as  to  the  coiu'se  of  affairs,  Buonaparte  reopened  his  corre- 
spondence with  Fesch  on  February  eighth  fi"om  the  hamlet  of  Serves  in 
order  to  acquaint  him  with  the  news  and  the  prospects  of  the  countiy, 
describing  in  particular  the  formation  of  patriotic  societies  by  aU  the 
towns  to  act  in  concert  for  carrying  out  the  decrees  of  the  Assembly. 
This  beginning  of  "  federation  for  the  Revolution,"  as  it  was  called,  in 
its  spread  finally  welded  the  whole  countiy,  civil  and  even  mihtary 
authorities,  together.  Napoleon's  presence  in  the  time  and  place  of  its 
beginning  explains  much  that  followed.  It  was  February  thirteenth 
when  he  rejoined  his  regiment. 

Comparatively  short  as  had  been  the  time  of  Buonaparte's  absence, 
everything  in  France,  even  the  army,  had  changed  and  was  still  chang- 


V 


80 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 


Chap.  X  hx^.  Step  by  step  the  most  wliolesome  reforms  were  introduced  as 
1791  each  in  turn  showed  itself  essential:  promotion  exclusively  according 
to  sei"vlce  among  the  lower  ofi&cers ;  the  same,  with  room  for  royal  dis- 
cretion, among  the  higher  gi^ades ;  division  of  the  forces  into  regulars, 
resei-ves,  and  national  guards,  the  two  former  to  be  still  recruited  by 
voluntary  enlistment.  The  ancient  and  privileged  constabulaiy,  and 
many  other  formerly  existing  but  inefficient  armed  bodies,  were  swept 
away,  and  the  present  system  of  gendaimerie  was  created.  The  mih- 
tary  courts,  too,  were  reconstituted  under  an  impartial  system  of  mar- 
tial law.  Simple  numbers  were  substituted  for  the  titular  distinctions 
hitherto  used  by  the  regiments,  and  a  fair  schedule  of  pay,  pensions, 
and  military  honors  abolished  all  chance  for  undue  favoritism.  The 
necessity  of  compulsory  enlistment  was  m-ged  by  a  few  with  all  the 
energy  of  powei-ful  conviction,  but  the  plan  was  dismissed  as  despotic. 
The  Assembly  debated  as  to  whether,  under  the  new  system,  king  or 
people  should  wield  the  military  power.  They  could  find  no  satisfac- 
toiy  solution,  and  finally  adopted  a  weak  compromise  which  went  far 
to  destroy  the  power  of  Mirabeau,  because  carried  through  by  him. 
The  entire  work  of  the  commission  was  temporarily  rendered  worthless 
by  these  two  essential  defects — there  was  no  way  of  filling  the  ranks, 
no  strong  arm  to  direct  the  system. 

The  first  year  of  trial,  1790,  had  given  the  disastrous  proof.  By 
this  time  all  monarchical  and  absolutist  Europe  was  awakened  against 
France ;  but  a  mere  handful  of  enhghtened  men  in  England,  and  still 
fewer  elsewhere,  were  in  sympathy  with  her  efforts.  The  stohd  com- 
mon sense  of  the  rest  saw  only  ruin  ahead,  and  viewed  askance  the 
idealism  of  her  uni-eal  subtleties.  The  French  nobles,  sickened  by 
the  thought  of  reform,  had  continued  their  silly  and  wicked  flight; 
the  neighboring  powers,  now  preparing  for  an  aimed  resistance  to  the 
spread  of  the  Revolution,  were  not  slow  to  abet  them  in  theii-  schemes. 
On  every  border  agencies  for  the  encouragement  of  desertion  were  es- 
tablished, and  by  the  opening  of  1791  the  effective  fighting  force  was 
more  than  decimated.  There  was  no  longer  any  question  of  disciphne ; 
it  was  enough  if  any  person  worthy  to  command  or  sei-ve  could  be  re- 
tained. But  the  remedy  for  this  disorganization  was  at  hand.  In  the 
letter  to  Fesch,  to  which  reference  has  already  been  made.  Napoleon, 
after  his  observations  among  the  people,  wrote  :  "I  have  everywhere 
foimd  the  peasants  firm  in  their  stirrups  [steadfast  in  their  opinions], 


THE   LODGING   OF  BONAPARTE   AT  VALENCE 


FROM   AN    OLD    LITHOGRAPH 


Tl.P  i,»iUWw,Tm'      -l^  ,  ."^      '         ^-  ■****"'  *^  ^^^  lour^ory  building  with  heart-shaped  *avern-sigii  to  the  left  uf  the  picture, 

lue  imilding  to  the  nght  (now  known  as  the  Maison  des  T^tes)  was  the  printing-house  and  reading-room  much  frequented  by  Bonaparte 
m  1(91  when  writing  his  comnetitive  essav  for  the  Lvohr  ArnHpmv 


^T.  21]  TRAITS    OF    CHARACTER 


81 


especially  ia  DaupMny.  They  are  all  disposed  to  perish  in  support  of  chap.  x 
the  constitution.  I  saw  at  Valence  a  resolute  people,  patriotic  soldiers,  im 
and  aristocratic  officers.  There  are,  however,  some  exceptions,  for  the 
president  of  the  club  is  a  captain  named  Du  Cei'beau.  He  is  captain  in 
the  regiment  of  Forez  in  garrison  at  Valence.  .  .  .  The  women  ai-e 
everywhere  royahst.  It  is  not  amazing ;  Liberty  is  a  prettier  woman 
than  they,  and  eclipses  them.  All  the  parish  priests  of  Dauphiny  have 
taken  the  civic  oath;  they  make  sport  of  the  bishop's  outcry.  .  .  . 
What  is  called  good  society  is  three  fom-ths  aristocratic — that  is,  they 
disgiuse  themselves  as  admirers  of  the  Enghsh  constitution." 

What  a  concise,  terse  sketch  of  that  rising  tide  of  national  feeling 
which  was  soon  to  make  good  aR  defects  and  to  fill  all  gaps  in  the  new 
militaiy  system,  put  the  anny  as  pai-t  of  the  nation  under  the  popular 
assembly,  knit  regulars,  reserves,  and  home  guard  into  one,  and  give 
moral  support  to  enforcing  the  proposal  for  compulsory  enlistment ! 

This  movement  was  Buonaparte's  opportunity.  Declaring  that  he 
had  twice  endeavored  since  the  expiration  of  his  extended  furlough  to 
cross  into  France,  he  produced  certificates  to  that  effect  from  the  au- 
thorities of  Ajaccio,  and  begged  for  his  pay  and  allowances  since  that 
date.  His  request  was  granted.  It  is  impossible  to  deny  the  tinith  of 
his  statement,  or  the  genuineness  of  his  certificates.  But  both  were 
loose  perversions  of  a  half-truth,  shifts  paUiated  by  the  uncertainties 
of  a  revolutionary  epoch.  A  habitual  casuistry  is  further  shown  in 
an  interesting  letter  written  at  the  same  time  to  a  business  friend  of 
Joseph's  at  Chalons,  in  which  there  occurs  a  passage  of  double  mean- 
ing, to  the  effect  that  his  elder  brother  "  hopes  to  come  in  person  the 
following  year  as  deputy  to  the  National  Assembly,"  which  was  no 
doubt  true  ;  for,  in  spite  of  being  incapacitated  by  age,  he  had  already 
sat  in  the  Corsican  convention  and  in  the  Ajaccio  councils.  But  the 
imperfect  French  of  the  passage  could  also  mean,  and,  casually  read, 
does  carry  the  idea,  that  Joseph,  being  already  a  deputy,  would  visit 
his  fi'iend  the  following  year  in  person. 

Buonaparte's  connection  with  his  old  regiment  was  soon  to  be 
broken.  He  joined  it  on  February  thirteenth ;  he  left  it  on  June  four- 
teenth. With  these  four  months  his  total  service  was  five  years  and 
nine  months ;  but  he  had  been  absent,  with  or  without  leave,  something 
more  than  haH  the  time !  His  old  fi-iends  in  Auxonne  were  few  in 
number,  if  there  were  any.     No  doubt  his  fellow-officers  were  tired  of 


82 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21 


Chap.  X  performing  the  absentee's  duties,  and  of  good-fellowship  there  could  be 
1791  in  any  case  but  little,  with  such  difference  of  taste,  pohtics,  and  fortune 
as  there  was  between  him  and  them.  However,  he  made  a  few  new 
fi'iends ;  but  it  was  in  the  main  the  old  sohtary  life  which  he  resumed. 
His  own  baii-ack-room  was  fiu-nished  with  a  wretched  uncm-tained 
couch,  a  table,  and  two  chau'S.  Louis  slept  on  a  pallet  in  a  closet  near 
by.  All  pleasm-es  but  those  of  hope  were  utterly  banished  from  those 
plucky  lives,  whUe  they  studied  in  preparation  for  the  examination 
which  might  admit  the  younger  to  his  brother's  corps.  The  elder 
pinched  and  scraped  to  pay  the  younger's  board ;  himself,  according  to 
his  own  account,  brushing  his  own  clothes  that  they  might  last  longer, 
and  supping  often  on  dry  bread.  His  only  place  of  resort  was  the 
pohtical  club.  One  single  pleasure  he  allowed  himself  —  the  occasional 
pm"chase  of  some  long-coveted  volume  from  the  shelves  of  a  town 
bookseller. 

Of  course  neither  authorship  nor  pubhcation  was  forgotten.  Dur- 
ing these  months  were  completed  the  two  short  pieces,  a  "Dialogue 
on  Love,"  and  the  acute  "  Reflections  on  the  State  of  Nature,"  from 
both  of  which  quotations  have  already  been  given.  "  I  too  was  once  in 
love,"  he  says  of  himself  in  the  former.  It  could  not  well  have  been  in 
Ajaccio,  and  it  must  have  been  the  memories  of  the  old  Valence,  of  a 
pleasant  existence  now  ended,  which  called  forth  the  doleful  confession. 
It  was  the  future  Napoleon  who  was  presaged  in  the  antithesis.  "  I  go 
further  than  the  denial  of  its  existence ;  I  believe  it  hiu'tful  to  society, 
to  the  individual  welfare  of  men."  The  other  trenchant  document  de- 
molishes the  cherished  hypothesis  of  Rousseau  as  to  man  in  a  state  of 
nature.  The  precious  manuscripts  brought  from  Corsica  were  sent  to 
the  only  pubhsher  in  the  neighborhood,  at  Dole.  The  much-revised 
history  was  refused;  the  other  —  whether  by  moneys  furnished  from 
the  Ajaccio  club,  or  at  the  author's  risk,  is  not  known  —  was  printed  in 
a  slim  octavo  volume  of  twenty-one  pages,  and  pubhshed  with  the  title, 
"  Letter  of  Buonaparte  to  Buttafuoco." 

Short  as  was  Buonaparte's  residence  at  Auxonne,  he  availed  himself 
to  the  utmost  of  the  slackness  of  discipline  in  order  to  gratify  his  curi- 
osity as  to  the  state  of  the  country.  He  paid  fi-equent  visits  to  Mar- 
mont  in  Dijon,  and  he  made  what  he  called  at  St.  Helena  his  "  Sen- 
timental Jom'ney  to  Nuits "  in  Burgundy.  The  account  he  gave  Las 
Cases  of  the  aristocracy  in  the  latter  city,  and  its  assembhes  at  the 


^T.21]  TRAITS  OF  CHAEACTER  83 

mansion  of  a  wine-merchant's  widow,  is  most  entertaining.  To  his  host  chap.  x 
Gassendi  and  to  the  worthy  mayor  he  aired  his  radical  doctrines  with  nui 
great  complacence,  but  according  to  his  own  account  he  had  not  the 
best  of  it  in  the  discussions  which  ensued.  Under  the  empire  Gas- 
sendi's  son  was  a  member  of  the  council  of  state,  and  in  one  of  its  ses- 
sions he  dared  to  support  some  of  his  opinions  by  quoting  Napoleon 
himself.  The  Emperor  remembered  perfectly  the  conversation  at  Nuits, 
but  meaningly  said  that  his  friend  must  have  been  asleep  and  dreaming. 
Several  traditions  which  throw  some  hght  on  Buonaparte's  attitude 
toward  rehgion  date  from  this  last  residence  in  Auxonne.  He  had  been 
prepared  for  confirmation  at  Brienne  by  a  confessor  who  was  now  in 
retirement  at  Dole,  the  same  to  whom  when  Fu-st  Consul  he  wrote  an 
acknowledgment  of  his  indebtedness,  adding :  "  Without  rehgion  there 
is  no  happiness,  no  future  possible.  I  commend  me  to  your  prayers." 
The  dwelling  of  this  good  man  was  the  frequent  goal  of  his  walks 
abroad.  Again,  he  once  jocularly  asked  a  friend  who  visited  him  in 
his  room,  if  he  had  heard  mass  that  morning,  opening,  as  he  spoke,  a 
trunk  in  which  was  the  complete  vestment  of  a  priest.  The  regimental 
chaplain,  who  must  have  been  his  friend,  had  confided  it  to  him  for 
safe  keeping.  Finally,  it  was  in  these  dark  and  never-forgotten  days 
of  trial  that  Louis  was  confirmed,  probably  by  the  advice  of  his  brother. 
Even  though  Napoleon  had  collaborated  with  Fesch  in  the  paper  on  the 
oath  of  priests  to  the  constitution,  though  he  himself  had  been  mobbed 
in  Corsica  as  the  enemy  of  the  Church,  it  does  not  appear  that  he  had 
any  other  than  decent  and  reverent  feelings  toward  rehgion  and  its 
professors. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  EEVOLUTION  IN  THE  RHONE  VALLEY 

A  Daek  Period  —  Bonaparte,  First  Lieutenant  —  Second  Sojourn 
IN  Valence — Books  and  Eeading — The  National  Assembly  of 
France — The  King  Returns  from  Versailles — Administrative 
Reforms  in  France — Passing  of  the  Old  Order — Flight  of 
THE  King — Bonaparte's  Oath  to  Sustain  the  Constitution — 
His  View  of  the  Situation — His  Revolutionary  Zeal — A  Se- 
rious Blunder  Avoided — Return  to  Corsica. 

Chap.  XI  T  I IHE  tortuous  course  of  Napoleon's  life  for  the  years  from  1791  to 
1791  -L  1795  has  been  neither  described  nor  understood  by  those  who 
have  written  in  his  interest.  It  was  his  own  desire  that  his  biogra- 
phies, in  spite  of  the  fact  that  his  pubhc  life  began  after  Rivoli,  should 
commence  with  the  recovery  of  Toulon  for  the  Convention.  His  de- 
tractors, on  the  other  hand,  have  studied  this  prefatory  period  with 
such  evident  bias  that  dispassionate  readers  have  been  repelled  from 
its  consideration.  And  yet  the  sordid  tale  well  repays  perusal ;  for  in 
this  epoch  of  his  life  many  of  his  characteristic  quahties  were  tem- 
pered and  ground  to  the  keen  edge  they  retained  throughout.  Swept 
onward  toward  the  trackless  ocean  of  pohtical  chaos,  the  youth  seemed 
afloat  without  oars  or  compass :  in  reahty,  his  craft  was  weU  under 
control,  and  his  chart  correct.  Whether  we  attribute  his  conduct  to 
accident  or  to  design,  from  an  adventm-er's  point  of  view  the  instinct 
which  made  him  spread  his  sails  to  the  breezes  of  Jacobin  favor  was 
quite  as  sound  as  that  which  later,  when  Jacobinism  came  to  be  ab- 
horred, made  him  anxious  that  the  fact  should  be  forgotten. 

In  the  earher  stages  of  army  reorganization,  changes  were  made 
without  much  regard  to  personal  merit,  the  dearth  of  efficient  officers 
being  such  that  even  the  most  indifferent  had  some  value.     About  the 

81 


^T.  21-22]  THE    REVOLUTION    IN    THE    RHONE    VALLEY  85 

jfirst  of  June,  1791,  Buonaparte  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  first  lieu-  chap.  xi 
tenant,  with  a  salary  of  thirteen  hundred  liAa-es,  and  transfeiTed  to  the  im 
Fourth  Regiment,  which  was  in  Valence.  He  heard  the  news  with 
mingled  feelings :  promotion  was,  of  com-se,  welcome,  but  he  shrank 
from  retm-ning  to  his  former  station,  and  from  leaving  the  three  or  four 
warm  friends  he  had  among  his  comrades  in  the  old  regiment.  On  the 
ground  that  the  arrangements  he  had  made  for  educating  Louis  would 
be  disturbed  by  the  transfer,  he  besought  the  war  office  for  permission 
to  remain  at  Auxonne  with  his  old  regiment,  now  known  as  the  Fu-st. 
Probably  the  real  ground  of  his  disinchnation  was  the  fear  that  a  resi- 
dence at  Valence  might  revive  the  painful  emotions  which  time  had 
somewhat  withered.  He  may  also  have  felt  how  discordant  the  radical 
opinions  he  was  beginning  to  hold  would  be  with  those  still  cherished 
by  his  former  friends.  But  the  authorities  were  inexorable,  and  on 
June  fourteenth  the  brothers  departed,  Napoleon  for  the  first  time 
leaving  debts  which  he  could  not  discharge :  for  the  new  uniform  of  a 
first  heutenant,  a  sword,  and  some  wood,  he  owed  about  a  hundred  and 
fifteen  livres.  This  sum  he  was  careful  to  pay  within  a  few  years  and 
as  soon  as  his  affairs  permitted. 

Arrived  at  Valence,  he  found  that  the  old  society  had  vanished. 
Both  the  bishop  and  the  abbe  of  Saint-Ruff  were  dead.  Mme.  du 
Colombier  had  withdrawn  with  her  daughter  to  her  country-seat.  The 
brothers  were  able,  therefore,  to  take  up  theii-  lives  just  where  they 
had  made  the  break  at  Auxonne :  Louis  pm-suing  the  studies  necessary 
for  entrance  to  the  corps  of  officers.  Napoleon  teaching  him,  and  fre- 
quenting the  political  club ;  both  destitute  and  probably  suffering,  for 
the  officer's  pay  was  soon  far  in  arrears.  In  such  desperate  straits  it 
was  a  rehef  for  the  elder  brother  that  the  allurements  of  his  former 
associations  were  dissipated;  such  companionship  as  he  now  had  was 
among  the  middle  and  lower  classes,  whose  estates  were  more  propor- 
tionate to  his  own,  and  whose  sentiments  were  virtually  identical  with 
those  which  he  professed. 

The  hst  of  books  which  he  read  is  significant :  Coxe's  "  Travels  in 
Switzerland,"  Duclos's  "Memoirs  of  the  Reigns  of  Louis  XTV.  and 
Louis  XV.,"  MachiavelK's  "History  of  Florence,"  Voltaire's  "Essay 
on  Manners,"  Duvemet's  "History  of  the  Sorbonne,"  Le  Noble's 
"  Spirit  of  Gerson,"  and  Dulaui-e's  "  History  of  the  Nobihty."  There 
exist  among  his  papers  outhnes  more  or  less  complete  of  all  these 


86 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21-22 


Chap.  XI  books.  They  prove  that  he  understood  what  he  read,  but  unhke  other 
1791  similar  jottings  by  him  they  give  httle  evidence  of  critical  power. 
Aside  from  such  historical  studies  as  would  explain  the  events  pre- 
liminary to  that  revolutionary  age  upon  which  he  saw  that  France  was 
entering,  he  was  carefully  examining  the  attitude  of  the  GaUican 
Church  toward  the  claims  of  the  papacy,  and  considering  the  role  of 
the  aristocracy  in  society.  It  is  clear  that  he  had  no  intention  of  being 
merely  a  cxuious  onlooker  at  the  successive  phases  of  the  political  and 
social  transmutation  already  beginning;  he  was  bent  on  examining 
causes,  comprehending  reasons,  and  sharing  in  the  movement  itself. 
By  the  summer  of  1791  the  first  stage  in  the  transformation  of 
France  had  almost  passed.  The  reign  of  moderation  in  reform  was 
nearly  over.  The  National  Assembly  had  apprehended  the  magnitude 
but  not  the  nature  of  its  task,  and  was  unable  to  grasp  the  conse- 
quences of  the  new  -constitution  it  had  outhned.  The  nation  was  suf- 
ficiently familiar  with  the  idea  of  the  crown  as  an  executive,  but 
hitherto  the  executive  had  been  at  the  same  time  legislator;  neither 
King  nor  people  quite  knew  how  the  King  was  to  obey  the  nation  when 
the  former,  trained  in  the  school  of  the  strictest  absolutism,  was  de- 
prived of  all  vohtion,  and  the  latter  gave  its  orders  through  a  single 
chamber,  responsive  to  the  levity  of  the  masses,  and  controlled  neither 
by  an  absolute  veto  power,  nor  by  any  feeling  of  responsibility  to  a  calm 
pubhc  opinion.  This  was  the  urgent  problem  which  had  to  be  solved 
under  conditions  the  most  unfavorable  that  could  be   conceived. 

During  the  autumn  of  1789  famine  was  actually  stalking  abroad. 
The  Parisian  populace  grew  gaimt  and  dismal,  but  the  King  and  aris- 
tocracy at  Versailles  had  food  in  plenty,  and  the  contrast  was  height- 
ened by  a  lavish  display  in  the  palace.  The  royal  family  was  betrayed 
by  one  of  its  own  house,  the  despicable  Phihp  "  Egahte,"  who  sought 
to  stir  up  the  basest  dregs  of  society,  that  in  the  ferment  he  might  rise 
to  the  top ;  hungry  Paris,  stung  to  action  by  rumors  which  he  spread 
and  by  bribes  which  he  lavished,  put  Lafayette  at  its  head,  and  on  Oc- 
tober fifth  marched  out  to  the  gates  of  the  royal  residence  in  order  to 
make  conspicuous  the  contrast  between  its  own  sufferings  and  the 
wasteful  comfort  of  its  servants,  as  the  King  and  his  ministers  were 
now  considered  to  be.  Louis  and  the  National  Assembly  yielded  to 
the  menace,  the  court  retm'ned  to  Paris,  politics  grew  hotter  and  more 
bitter,  the  fickleness  of  the  mob  became  a  stronger  power.     Soon  the 


Mt.21-22]  the  revolution  IN  THE  RHONE  VALLEY  87 

Jacobin  Club  began  to  wield  the  mightiest  single  influence,  and  as  it    Chap,  xi 
did  so  it  gi'ew  more  and  more  radical.  1791     - 

Throughout  the  long  and  trying  winter  the  masses  remained,  never- 
theless, quietly  expectant.  There  was  much  tiunultuous  talk,  but  ac- 
tion was  suspended  while  the  Assembly  sat  and  struggled  to  solve 
its  problem,  elaborating  a  really  fine  paper  constitution.  Unfoi-tu- 
nately,  the  provisions  of  the  document  had  no  relation  to  the  pohtical 
habits  of  the  French  nation,  or  to  the  experience  of  England  and  the 
United  States,  the  only  free  governments  then  in  existence.  Feudal 
privilege,  feudal  provinces,  feudal  names  having  been  obliterated,  the 
whole  of  France  was  rearranged  into  administrative  departments,  with 
geogi'aphical  in  place  of  historical  boimdaries.  It  was  felt  that  the 
ecclesiastical  domains,  the  holders  of  which  were  considered  as  mere 
trustees,  should  be  adapted  to  the  same  plan,  and  this  was  done.  Ec- 
clesiastical as  well  as  aristocratic  control  was  thus  removed  by  the 
stroke  of  a  pen.  In  other  words,  by  the  destruction  of  the  mechanism 
through  which  the  temporal  and  spiritual  authorities  exerted  the  rem- 
nants of  then-  power,  they  were  both  completely  paralyzed.  The  King 
was  denied  all  initiative,  being  granted  merely  a  suspensive  veto,  and 
in  the  reform  of  the  judicial  system  the  prestige  of  the  lawyers  was 
also  destroyed.  Royalty  was  tiu-ned  into  a  function,  and  the  courts 
were  stripped  of  both  the  moral  and  physical  force  necessary  to  compel 
obedience  to  their  decrees.  Every  form  of  the  guardianship  to  which 
for  centuries  the  people  had  been  accustomed  was  thus  removed  — 
royal,  aristocratic,  ecclesiastical,  and  judicial.  Untrained  to  self-con- 
trol, they  were  as  ready  for  mad  excesses  as  were  the  Grerman  Ana- 
baptists after  the  Reformation  or  the  Enghsh  sectaries  after  the 
execution  of  Charles. 

Attention  has  been  called  to  the  disturbances  which  arose  in 
Auxonne  and  elsewhere,  to  the  emigration  of  the  nobles  fi'om  that 
quarter,  to  the  utter  break  between  the  parish  priests  and  the  higher 
church  functionaries  ia  Dauphiny ;  this  was  but  a  sample  of  the  whole. 
When,  on  July  f  om-teenth,  1790,  the  King  accepted  a  constitution  which 
decreed  a  secular  reorganization  of  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy  accord- 
ing to  the  terms  of  which  both  bishops  and  priests  were  to  be  elected 
by  the  taxpayers,  two  thirds  of  aU  the  clergy  in  France  refused  to 
swear  allegiance  to  it.  All  attempts  to  estabhsh  the  new  administra- 
tive and  judicial  systems  were  more  or  less  futUe ;  the  disaffection  of 


gg  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21-22 

Chap.  XI  officials  and  lawyers  became  more  intense.  In  Paris  alone  the  changes 
iTOi  were  introduced  with  some  success,  the  municipahty  being  rearranged 
into  forty-eight  sections,  each  with  a  primary  assembly.  These  were  the 
bodies  which  later  gave  Buonaparte  the  opening  whereby  he  entered 
his  real  career.  The  influence  of  the  Jacobin  Club  increased,  just  in 
proportion  as  the  majority  of  its  members  grew  more  radical.  Necker 
trimmed  to  their  demands,  but  lost  popularity  by  his  monotonous  calls 
for  money,  and  fell  in  September,  reaching  his  home  on  Lake  Leman 
only  with  the  greatest  difficulty.  Mirabeau  succeeded  him  as  the  sole 
possible  prop  to  the  tottering  throne.  Under  his  leadership  the  mod- 
erate monarchists,  or  Feuillants,  as  they  were  later  called  from  the 
convent  of  that  order  to  which  they  withdrew,  seceded  from  the  Jaco- 
bins, and  before  the  Assembly  had  ceased  its  work  the  land  was  cleft 
in  two,  divided  iato  opponents  and  adherents  of  monarchy.  As  if  to 
insure  the  disasters  of  such  an  antagonism,  the  Assembly,  which  rmm- 
bered  among  its  members  every  man  in  France  of  ripe  pohtical  expe- 
rience, committed  the  incredible  folly  of  seK-effacement,  voting  that 
not  one  of  its  members  should  be  eligible  to  the  legislature  about  to 
be  chosen. 

A  new  impulse  to  the  revolutionary  movement  was  given  by  the 
death  of  Mirabeau  on  April  second,  1791.  His  obsequies  were  cele- 
brated in  many  places,  and,  being  a  native  of  Provence,  there  were 
probably  solemn  ceremonies  at  Valence.  There  is  a  tradition  that  they 
occm-red  diu-ing  Buonaparte's  second  residence  in  the  city,  and  that  it 
was  he  who  superintended  the  draping  of  the  chou*  in  the  principal 
church.  It  is  said  that  the  hangings  were  arranged  to  represent  a  fu- 
nerary ura,  and  that  beneath,  in  conspicuous  letters,  ran  the  legend: 
"Behold  what  remains  of  the  French  Lyciirgus."  Mirabeau  had  in- 
deed displayed  a  genius  for  pohtics,  his  scheme  for  a  strong  ministry, 
chosen  from  the  Assembly,  standing  in  bold  rehef  against  the  feeble- 
ness of  Necker  in  persuading  Louis  to  accept  the  suspensive  veto,  and 
to  choose  his  cabinet  without  relation  to  the  party  in  power.  When 
the  mad  dissipation  of  the  statesman's  youth  demanded  its  penalty 
at  the  hour  so  critical  for  France,  the  King  and  the  moderates  alike 
lost  courage.  In  June  the  worried  and  worn-out  monarch  determined 
that  the  game  was  not  worth  the  playing,  and  on  the  twenty-first  he 
fled.  Though  he  was  captured,  and  brought  back  to  act  the  impossible 
role  of  a  democratic  prince,  the  patriots  who  had  wished  to  advance  with 


DRAWING    MADE    FOB    THK    CK^NTURY    CO. 


BONAPARTE   PAWNING  HIS  WATCH 

FROM    THE    DRAWING   BT    ERIC   PAPB 

Bourrienne,  hi.  early  friend  and  companion  in  Paria,  relate,  thi.  incident 


^T.  21-22]  THE    REVOLUTION    IN    THE    RHONE    VALLEY  89 

experience  and  tradition  as  giiides  were  utterly  discredited.  All  the  chap.  xi 
world  could  see  how  pusillanimous  was  the  royalty  they  had  wished  to  i79i 
preserve,  and  the  masses  made  up  then-  mind  that,  real  or  nominal,  the 
institution  was  not  only  useless,  but  dangerous.  This  feehug  was 
strong  in  the  Rhone  valley  and  the  adjoining  districts,  which  have  ever 
been  the  home  of  extreme  radicalism.  Sympathy  with  Corsica  and  the 
Corsicans  had  long  been  active  in  southeastern  France.  Neither  the 
island  nor  its  people  were  felt  to  be  strange.  When  a  society  for 
the  defense  of  the  constitution  was  formed  in  Valence,  Buonaparte, 
though  a  Corsican,  was  at  first  secretary,  then  president,  of  the  as- 
sociation. 

The  "Friends  of  the  Constitution"  grew  daily  more  numerous,  more  ' 

powerful,  and  more  radical  in  that  city ;  and  when  the  great  solemnity 
of  swearing  allegiance  to  the  new  order  was  to  be  celebrated,  it  was 
chosen  as  a  convenient  and  suitable  place  for  a  convention  of  twenty- 
two  similar  associations  from  the  neighboring  districts.  The  meeting 
took  place  on  July  third,  1791 ;  the  official  administration  of  the  oath  to 
the  civil,  military,  judicial,  and  ecclesiastical  authorities  occuiTed  on  the 
fourteenth.  Before  a  vast  altar  erected  on  the  drill-ground,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  all  the  dignitaries,  with  cannon  booming  and  the  au*  resound- 
ing with  shouts  and  patriotic  songs,  the  officials  in  groups,  the  people  in 
mass,  swore  with  uplifted  hands  to  sustain  the  constitution,  to  obey  the 
National  Assembly,  and  to  die,  if  need  be,  in  defending  French  territory 
against  invasion.  Scenes  as  impressive  and  dramatic  as  this  occuiTed 
all  over  France.  They  appealed  powerfully  to  the  imagination  of  the 
nation,  and  profoundly  influenced  public  opinion.  "  Until  then,"  said 
Buonaparte,  referring  to  the  solemnity,  "I  doubt  not  that  if  I  had 
received  orders  to  turn  my  guns  against  the  people,  habit,  prejudice, 
education,  and  the  King's  name  would  have  induced  me  to  obey.  With 
the  taking  of  the  national  oath  it  became  otherwise ;  my  instincts  and 
my  duty  were  thenceforth  in  harmony." 

But  the  position  of  liberal  officers  was  still  most  trying.  In  the 
streets  and  among  the  people  they  were  in  a  congenial  atmosphere ;  be- 
hind the  closed  doors  of  the  drawing-rooms,  in  the  society  of  ladies,  and 
among  their  fellows  in  the  mess,  there  were  constraint  and  suspicion. 
Out  of  doors  all  was  exultation ;  in  the  houses  of  the  hitherto  privileged 
classes  aU  was  sadness  and  uncertainty.   But  everywhere,  indoors  or  out,  ^ 

was  spreading  the  fear  of  war,  if  not  civil  at  least  foreign  war,  with  the 


90 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21-22 


Chap.  XI  French  emigrants  as  the  allies  of  the  assailants.  On  this  point  Buona- 
1791  parte  was  mistaken.  As  late  as  July  twenty-seventh,  1791,  he  wrote  to 
Naudin,  an  intimate  friend  who  was  chief  of  the  military  hureau  at 
Auxonne :  "Will  there  be  war?  No;  Europe  is  divided  between  sover- 
eigns who  rule  over  men  and  those  who  rule  over  cattle  and  horses. 
The  foiTaer  understand  the  Revolution,  and  are  terrified ;  they  would 
gladly  make  personal  sacrifices  to  annihilate  it,  but  they  dare  not  hft 
the  mask  for  fear  the  fire  should  break  out  in  their  own  houses.  See 
the  history  of  England,  Holland,  etc.  Those  who  bear  the  rule  over 
horses  misunderstand  and  cannot  grasp  the  bearing  of  the  constitution. 
They  think  this  chaos  of  incoherent  ideas  means  an  end  of  French 
*  power.     You  would  suppose,  to  hsten  to  them,  that  our  brave  patriots 

were  about  to  cut  one  another's  throats,  and  with  their  blood  purge  the 
land  of  the  crimes  committed  against  kings."  The  news  contained  in 
this  letter  is  most  interesting.  There  are  accounts  of  the  zeal  and  spirit 
everywhere  shown  by  the  democratic  patriots,  of  a  petition  for  the  trial 
of  the  King  sent  up  from  the  recent  meeting  at  Valence,  and  an  assur- 
ance by  the  writer  that  his  regiment  is  "  sure,"  except  as  to  half  the 
officers.  He  adds  in  a  postscript :  "  Southern  blood  courses  in  my 
veins  as  swiftly  as  the  Rhone.  Pardon  me  if  you  feel  distressed  in 
reading  my  scrawl." 

Restlessness  is  the  habit  of  the  agitator,  and  Buonaparte's  tem- 
perament was  not  exceptional.  His  movements  and  purposes  during 
the  months  of  July  and  August  are  veiy  imcertain  in  the  absence  of 
documentaiy  evidence  sufficient  to  determine  them.  But  his  earliest 
biographers,  following  what  was  in  their  time  a  comparatively  short 
tradition,  enable  us  to  fix  some  things  with  a  high  degree  of  probabihty. 
The  young  radical  had  been  but  Wo  months  with  his  new  command 
when  he  began  to  long  for  change;  the  fever  of  excitement  and  the 
discomfort  of  his  life,  with  probably  some  inkhng  that  a  Corsican 
national  guard  would  ere  long  be  organized,  awakened  in  him  a 
purpose  to  be  off  once  more,  and  accordingly  he  applied  for  leave  of 
absence.  His  colonel,  a  veiy  lukewarm  constitutionahst,  angry  at  the 
notoriety  which  his  heutenant  was  acquiring,  had  already  sent  in  a 
complaint  of  Buonaparte's  insubordinate  spirit  and  of  his  inattention 
to  duty.  Standing  on  a  formal  right,  he  therefore  refused  the  apphca- 
tion.  With  the  quick  resource  of  a  schemer,  Buonaparte  turned  to  a 
higher  authority,  his  friend  Duteil,  who  was  inspector-general  of  artil- 


^T.  21-22]  THE    REVOLUTION    IN    THE    RHONE    VALLEY  gj 

leiy  in  the  department  and  not  unfavorable.      Something,  however,     Chap,  xi 
must  have  occmTed  to  cause  delay,  for  weeks  passed  and  the  desired       mi 
leave  was  not  gi'anted. 

While  awaiting  a  decision  the  appUcant  was  very  uneasy.  To 
friends  he  said  that  he  would  soon  be  in  Paris ;  to  his  great-uncle  he 
wrote,  "Send  me  three  hundi-ed  hvres;  that  sum  would  take  me  to 
Paris.  There,  at  least,  a  person  can  show  himself,  overcome  obstacles. 
Everything  tells  me  that  I  shall  succeed  there.  Will  you  stop  me  for 
lack  of  a  hundred  crowns '? "  And  again :  "  I  am  waiting  impatiently 
for  the  six  crowns  my  mother  owes  me ;  I  need  them  sadly."  These 
demands  for  money  met  with  no  response.  The  explanation  of  Buona- 
parte's impatience  is  simple  enough.  One  by  one  the  provincial  socie- 
ties which  had  been  formed  to  support  the  constitution  were  affiliating 
themselves  with  the  influential  Jacobins  at  Paris,  who  were  now  the 
strongest  single  pohtical  power  in  the  country.  He  was  the  recognized 
leader  of  theii-  sympathizers  in  the  Rhone  valley.  He  evidently  in- 
tended to  go  to  headquarters  and  see  for  himself  what  the  outlook 
was.  With  backers  such  as  he  thus  hoped  to  find,  some  advantage, 
perhaps  even  the  long-desu-ed  command  in  Corsica,  might  be  secm'ed. 

It  was  rare  good  fortune  that  the  young  hotspui*  was  not  yet  to  be 
cast  into  the  seething  caldi-on  of  French  pohtics.  The  time  was  not 
yet  ripe  for  the  exercise  of  his  powers.  The  storming  of  the  Bastille 
had  symbohzed  the  overthrow  of  privilege  and  absolute  monarchy; 
the  flight  of  the  King  presaged  the  overthrow  of  monarchy,  absolute 
or  otherwise.  The  executive  gone,  the  legislature  popular  and  demo- 
cratic but  ignorant  how  to  administer  or  conduct  affairs,  the  judiciary 
equally  disorganized,  and  the  army  transforming  itself  into  a  patriotic 
organization — was  there  more  to  come?  Yes.  Thus  far,  in  spite  of 
well-meant  attempts  to  substitute  new  constructions  for  the  old,  all 
had  been  disintegration.  French  society  was  to  be  reorganized  only 
after  further  pulverizing ;  cohesion  would  begin  only  under  pressure 
from  without — a  pressure  apphed  by  the  threats  of  erratic  royalists 
that  they  would  bring  in  the  foreign  powers  to  coerce  and  arbitrate, 
by  the  active  demonstrations  of  the  emigrants,  by  the  outbreak  of 
foreign  wars.  These  were  the  events  about  to  take  place;  they 
would  in  the  end  evolve  from  the  chaos  of  mob  rule  first  the  irreg- 
ular and  temporary  dictatorship  of  the  Convention,  then  the  tyranny 
of  the  Directory ;  at  the  same  time  they  would  infuse  a  fervor  of  pa- 


92 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  21-22 


Chap.  XI  triotism  into  the  whole  mass  of  the  French  nation,  stunned,  helpless, 
.  1791  and  leaderless,  but  loyal,  brave,  and  vigorous.  In  such  a  crisis  the  peo- 
ple would  tolerate,  if  not  demand,  a  leader  strong  to  exact  respect  for 
France  and  to  enforce  his  commands ;  would  prefer  the  vigorous  mas- 
tery of  one  to  the  feeble  misrule  of  the  many  or  the  few.  Still  fm^ther, 
the  man  was  as  um-eady  as  the  time ;  for  it  was,  in  aU  probability,  not 
as  a  Frenchman  but  as  an  ever  tnie  Corsican  patriot  that  Buonaparte 
wished  to  "  show  himself,  overcome  obstacles  "  at  this  conjuncture. 

On  August  fom-th,  1791,  the  National  Assembly  at  last  decided  to 
form  a  paid  volunteer  national  guard  of  a  hundred  thousand  men,  and 
their  decision  became  a  law  on  August  twelfth.  The  term  of  enUst- 
ment  was  a  year;  four  battalions  were  to  be  raised  in  Corsica.  Buona- 
parte heard  of  the  decision  on  August  tenth,  and  was  convinced  that 
the  hour  for  reahzing  his  long-cherished  aspirations  had  finally  struck. 
He  could  certainly  have  done  much  in  Paris  to  secure  office  in  a 
French-Corsican  national  guard,  and  with  this  in  mind  he  immediately 
wrote  a  memorandum  on  the  armament  of  the  new  force,  addressing 
it,  with  characteristic  assurance,  to  the  Minister  of  War.  When,  how- 
ever, three  weeks  later,  on  August  thirtieth,  1791,  a  leave  of  absence 
arrived,  to  which  he  was  entitled  in  the  course  of  routine,  and  which 
was  not  granted  by  the  favor  of  any  one,  he  had  abandoned  all  idea  of 
service  under  France  in  the  Corsican  guard.  The  disorder  of  the  times 
was  such  that  while  retaining  office  in  the  French  army  he  could  test 
in  an  independent  Corsican  command  the  possibihty  of  chmbing  to 
leadership  there  before  abandoning  his  present  subordinate  place  in 
France.  In  view,  apparently,  of  this  new  ventm'e,  he  had  for  some 
time  been  taking  advances  from  the  regimental  paymaster,  until  he 
had  now  in  hand  a  considerable  sum — two  hundi'ed  and  ninety  livres. 
A  formal  announcement  to  the  authorities  might  have  ehcited  embar- 
rassing questions  from  them,  so  he  and  Louis  quietly  departed  without 
explanations,  leaving  for  the  second  time  debts  of  considerable  amoimt. 
They  reached  Ajaccio  on  September  sixth,  1791.  Napoleon  was  not 
actually  a  deserter,  but  he  had  in  contemplation  a  step  toward  the 
defiance  of  French  authority — the  acceptance  of  service  in  a  Corsican 
military  force. 


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CHAPTER  XII 

BONAPARTE   THE   CORSICAN   JACOBIN 

Bonaparte's  Coesican  Patriotism — His  Position  in  His  Family — 
CoRsicAN  Politics — His  Position  m  the  Jacobin  Club  of  Ajac- 
cio — His  Failure  as  a  Contestant  for  Literary  Honors — 
Appointed  Adjutant-General — His  Attitude  toward  France 
— His  New  Ambitions — Use  op  Violence — Lieutenant-Colonel 
of  Volunteers  —  Politics  in  Ajaccio  —  Bonaparte's  First  Ex- 
perience OF  Street  Warfare — His  Manifesto — Dismissed  to 
Paris  —  His  Plans  —  The  Position  of  Louis  XVI.  —  Bonaparte's 
Delinquencies — Disorganization  in  the  Army — Petition  for 
Reinstatement — The  Marseillais — Bonaparte  a  Spectator  — 
His  Estemate  of  France — His  Presence  at  the  Scenes  of  Au- 
gust Tenth — State  of  Paris, 

THIS  was  the  third  time  in  four  years  that  Buonaparte  had  re-  chap.  xn 
visited  his  home.  On  the  plea  of  iU  health  he  had  been  able  the  1791-92 
first  time  to  remain  a  year  and  two  months,  giving  full  play  to  his  Cor- 
sican  patriotism  and  his  own  ambitions  by  attendance  at  Orezza,  and 
by  pohtical  agitation  among  the  people.  The  second  time  he  had  re- 
mained a  year  and  four  months,  retaining  his  hold  on  his  commission 
by  subterfuges  and  in-egularities  which,  though  condoned,  had  strained 
his  relations  with  the  ministry  of  war  in  Paris.  He  had  openly  defied 
the  royal  authority,  relying  on  the  coming  storm  for  the  concealment 
of  his  conduct  if  it  should  prove  reprehensible,  or  for  preferment  in  his 
own  country  if  Corsica  should  secure  her  hberties.  There  is  no  rea- 
son, therefore,  to  suppose  that  his  intentions  for  the  thu-d  visit  were 
different  from  those  displayed  in  the  other  two,  although  again  soHci- 
tude  for  his  family  was  doubtless  one  of  many  considerations. 

13  93 


94 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  2; 


Chap,  xh  Diuing  Napoleon's  absence  from  Corsica  the  condition  of  his  family 
1797-92  had  not  materially  changed.  Soon  after  his  arrival  the  old  archdeacon 
died,  and  his  httle  fortune  fell  to  the  Buonapartes.  Joseph,  faihng 
shortly  afterward  in  his  plan  of  being  elected  deputy  to  the  French 
legislatm-e,  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Corsican  directory.  He  was, 
therefore,  forced  to  occupy  himself  entirely  with  his  new  duties  and  to 
live  at  Corte.  Fesch,  as  the  eldest  male,  the  mother's  brother,  and  a 
priest  at  that,  expected  to  assume  the  direction  of  the  family  affaii^s. 
But  he  was  doomed  to  speedy  disenchantment :  thenceforward  Napo- 
leon was  the  family  dictator.  In  conjunction  with  his  uncle  he  used 
the  whole  or  a  considerable  portion  of  the  archdeacon's  savings  for  the 
pm'chase  of  several  estates  from  the  national  domain,  as  the  seques- 
trated lands  of  the  monasteries  were  called.  Rendered  thus  more  self- 
important,  he  talked  much  in  the  home  circle  concerning  the  greatness 
of  classical  antiquity,  and  wondered  "who  would  not  wiUingly  have 
been  stabbed,  if  only  he  could  have  been  Cgesar?  One  feeble  ray  of  his 
glory  would  be  an  ample  recompense  for  sudden  death."  Such  chances 
for  Csesarism  as  the  island  of  Corsica  afforded  were  very  rapidly 
becoming  better. 

During  the  last  few  months  religious  agitation  had  been  steadily 
increasing.  Pious  Cathohcs  were  embittered  by  the  virtual  expulsion 
of  the  old  clergy,  and  the  induction  to  office  of  new  priests  who  had 
sworn  to  uphold  the  constitution.  Amid  the  disorders  of  administra- 
tion the  people  in  ever  larger  numbers  had  secured  arms ;  as  of  yore, 
they  appeared  at  their  assembhes  under  the  guidance  of  theii*  chiefs, 
ready  to  fight  at  a  moment's  notice.  It  was  but  a  step  to  violence,  and 
without  any  other  provocation  than  reUgious  exasperation  the  towns- 
folk of  Bastia  had  lately  sought  to  kiU  their  new  bishop.  Even  Arena, 
who  had  so  recently  seized  the  town  in  Paoh's  interest,  was  now  re- 
garded as  a  French  radical,  maltreated,  and  banished  with  his  sup- 
porters to  Italy.  The  new  election  was  at  hand ;  the  contest  between 
the  Paolists  and  the  extreme  French  party  gi-ew  hotter  and  hotter. 
Deputies  to  the  new  assembly,  and  superior  officers  of  the  new  guard, 
were  to  be  elected.  Buonaparte,  being  only  a  lieutenant  of  the  regu- 
lars, could  according  to  the  law  aspire  no  higher  than  an  appointment 
as  adjutant-major  with  the  title  and  pay  of  captain.  It  was  not 
worth  while  to  lose  his  place  in  France  for  this,  so  he  determined 
to  stand  for  one  of  the  higher  elective  offices,  that  of  heutenant-colo- 


^T.  22]  BONAPARTE    THE    CORSICAX    JACOBIN  95 

nel,  a  position  which  would  give  him  more  power,  and,  imder  the    chap.  xn 
latest  legislation,  entitle  him  to  retain  his  grade  in  the  regular  anny.      1791^92 

There  were  now  two  pohtical  clubs  in  Ajaccio :  that  of  the  Corsi- 
can  Jacobins,  country  people  for  the  most  pai-t ;  and  that  of  the  Cor- 
sican  Feuillants,  composed  of  the  officials  and  townsfolk.  Buonaparte 
became  a  moving  spirit  in  the  former,  and  determined  at  any  cost 
to  destroy  the  influence  of  the  latter.  The  two  previous  attempts  to 
secure  Ajaccio  for  the  radicals  had  failed:  a  thu-d  was  already 
under  consideration.  The  new  leader  began  to  garnish  his  language 
with  those  fine  and  specious  phrases  which  thenceforth  were  never 
wanting  in  his  utterances  at  revolutionary  crises.  "Law,"  he  ^Tote 
about  this  time,  "  is  like  those  statues  of  some  of  the  gods  which  are 
veiled  imder  certain  ch-cumstances."  For  a  few  weeks  there  was  little 
or  nothing  to  do  in  the  way  of  electioneering  at  home;  he  therefore 
obtained  permission  to  travel  with  the  famous  Volney,  who  had  been 
chosen  director  of  commerce  and  manufactures  in  the  island.  This 
journey  was  for  a  candidate  like  Buonaparte  invaluable  as  a  means  of 
observation  and  of  winning  friends  for  his  cause. 

Before  the  close  of  this  trip  his  furlough  had  expired,  his  regiment 
had  been  put  on  a  war  footing,  and  orders  had  been  issued  for  the 
return  of  every  officer  to  his  post  by  Chi-istmas  day.  But  in  the  ex- 
ecution of  his  fixed  purpose  the  young  Corsican  patriot  was  heedless 
of  military  obhgations  to  France,  and  wilfully  remained  absent  fi'om 
duty.  Once  more  the  spell  of  a  wild,  free  life  was  upon  him ;  he  was 
enhsted  for  the  campaign,  though  without  position  or  money  to  back 
him.  The  essay  on  happiness  which  he  had  presented  to  the  Academy 
of  Lyons  had  faUed,  as  a  matter  of  com-se,  to  win  the  prize,  one  of  the 
judges  pronouncing  it  "  too  badly  arranged,  too  imeven,  too  discon- 
nected, and  too  badly  written  to  deserve  attention."  This  decision  was 
a  double  blow,  for  it  was  announced  about  this  time,  at  a  moment 
when  fame  and  money  would  both  have  been  most  welcome.  The 
scanty  income  from  the  lands  purchased  with  the  legacy  of  the  old  arch- 
deacon remained  the  only  resom-ce  of  the  family  for  the  lavish  hos- 
pitality which,  according  to  immemorial,  semi-barbarous  tradition,  was 
required  of  a  Corsican  candidate. 

A  peremptory  order  was  now  issued  fi-om  Paris  that  those  officers 
of  the  line  who  had  been  serving  in  the  National  Guard  with  a  gi-ade 
lower  than  that  of  lieutenant-colonel  should  return  to  regular  ser- 


gg  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t.22 

Chap,  xn  vice  before  April  first,  1792.  Here  was  an  implication  whicli  might 
1791^92  be  turned  to  account.  As  a  lieutenant  on  leave,  Buonaparte  should  of 
coiu-se  have  retui'ned  on  December  twenty-fifth ;  if,  however,  he  were 
an  officer  of  volunteers  he  could  plead  the  new  order.  Though  as  yet 
the  recruits  had  not  come  in,  and  no  companies  had  been  formed,  the 
mere  idea  was  sufficient  to  suggest  a  means  for  saving  appearances.  An 
appointment  as  adjutant-major  was  sohcited  from  the  major-general  in 
command  of  the  department,  and  he,  under  authorization  obtained  in 
due  time  fi-om  Paris,  gi'anted  it.  Safe  from  the  charge  of  desertion  thus 
far,  it  was  essential  for  his  reputation  and  for  his  ambition  that  Buona- 
parte should  be  elected  lieutenant-colonel.  Success  would  enable  him 
to  plead  that  his  first  lapse  in  disciphne  was  due  to  irregular  orders 
from  his  superior,  that  anyhow  he  had  been  an  adjutant-major,  and 
that  finally  the  position  of  heutenant-colonel  gave  him  immunity  from 
punishment,  and  left  him  blameless. 

He  nevertheless  was  uneasy,  and  wrote  two  letters  of  a  curious 
character  to  his  friend  Sucy,  the  commissioner-general  at  Valence. 
In  the  first,  written  five  weeks  after  the  expiration  of  his  leave,  he 
calmly  reports  himself,  and  gives  an  accoujit  of  his  occupations,  men- 
tioning incidentally  that  unforeseen  circumstances,  duties  the  dearest 
and  most  sacred,  had  prevented  his  return.  In  the  second  he  plumply 
declares  that  in  perilous  times  the  post  of  a  good  Corsican  is  at  home, 
that  therefore  he  had  thought  of  resigning,  but  his  friends  had  ar- 
ranged the  middle  course  of  appointing  him  adjutant-major  in  the 
volunteers  so  that  he  could  make  his  duty  as  a  soldier  conform  to 
his  duty  as  a  patriot.  Asking  for  news  of  what  is  going  on  in  France, 
he  says,  writing  hke  an  outsider,  "  If  your  nation  loses  courage  at  this 
moment,  it  is  done  with  forever." 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  March  that  the  volunteers  from  the  moun- 
tains began  to  appear  in  Ajaccio  for  the  election  of  their  officers. 
Napoleon  had  bitter  and  powerful  rivals,  but  his  recent  trip  had  ap- 
parently enabled  him  to  win  many  friends  among  the  men.  While, 
therefore,  success  was  possible  by  that  means,  there  was  another  in- 
fluence ahnost  as  powerful — that  of  three  commissioners  appointed  by 
the  directory  of  the  island  to  organize  and  equip  the  battahon.  With 
skilful  diplomacy  Buonaparte  agreed  that  he  would  not  presume  to  be 
a  candidate  for  the  office  of  first  heutenant-colonel,  which  was  to  go  to 
Peretti,  a  near  friend  of  Paoh,  but  would  seek  the  position  of  second 


l^roCllAVlRE   BOfSSOD,  VAI.ADOS  A  CO,  rAllW. 


AOLARtUE   MADE  fOn  THF.  CENTL'HY  CO, 


BONAPARTE    IN     1 792    AS 


,    A    FREQUENTER   OF    A   SIX-SOUS    RESTAURANT    IN     1-ARIS. 


r-REQ.U 

H10>1  lilt  AuLAilELLt   UV  EWC  PAI'E. 


^T.  22]  BONAPARTE    THE    CORSICAN   JACOBIN  97 

lieutenant-colonel.     In  this  way  he  was  assured  of  good  will  from  two    cnxp.  xn 
of  the  three  commissioners;  the  other  was  hostile,  being  a  partizan      179II92 
of  Peraldi,  the  rival  candidate.     Peretti  himself  declared  in  favor  of  a 
nobody,  his  brother-in-law,  Quenza. 

The  election,  as  usual  in  Corsica,  seems  to  have  passed  in  turbulence 
and  noisy  violence.  The  third  commissioner,  Hving  as  a  guest  with 
Peraldi,  was  seized  dming  the  night  preceding  the  election  by  a  body 
of  Buonaparte's  fiiends,  and  put  under  lock  and  key  in  their  candidate's 
house  —  "to  make  you  entirely  free;  you  were  not  free  where  you 
were,"  said  the  instigator  of  the  stroke,  when  called  to  explain.  To 
the  use  of  fine  phrases  was  now  added  a  facility  in  employing  violence 
at  a  pinch  which  hkewise  remained  characteristic  of  Buonaparte's 
career  down  to  the  end.  There  is  a  story  that  in  one  of  the  scuffles 
incident  to  this  brawl  a  member  of  Pozzo  di  Borgo's  family  was  thrown 
down  and  trampled  on.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Buonaparte  was  successful, 
and  from  that  moment  the  families  of  Peraldi  and  of  Pozzo  di  Borgo 
were  his  deadly  enemies. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  insignificant  Quenza,  and  not  Peretti,  was 
chosen  first  heutenant-colonel.  Buonaparte,  therefore,  was  in  virt^^aI 
command  of  a  stui-dy,  well-armed,  legal  force.  Having  been  adjutant- 
major,  and  being  now  a  regularly  elected  heutenant-colonel  according 
to  statute,  he  apphed,  with  a  well-calculated  effrontery,  to  his  regi- 
mental paymaster  for  the  pay  which  had  accrued  during  his  absence. 
It  was  at  first  refused,  for  in  the  interval  he  had  been  cashiered  for  re- 
maining at  home  in  disobedience  to  orders ;  but  such  were  the  iiTCgu- 
larities  of  that  revolutionary  time  that  later,  virtual  deserter  as  he  had 
been,  it  was  actually  paid.  No  one  was  more  adroit  than  Buonaparte 
in  taking  advantage  of  possibilities.  He  was  a  pluralist  without  con- 
science. A  French  regular  if  the  emergency  should  demand  it,  he  was 
likewise  a  Corsican  patriot  and  commander  in  the  volunteer  guard  of 
the  island,  fully  equipped  for  another  move.  Perhaps,  at  last,  he  could 
assiune  with  success  the  hberator's  role  of  Sampiero.  But  an  oppor- 
tunity must  occur  or  be  created.     One  was  easily  arranged. 

Ajaccio  had  gradually  become  a  resort  for  many  ardent  Roman 
Cathohcs  who  had  refused  to  accept  the  new  order.  The  town  authori- 
ties, although  there  were  some  extreme  radicals  among  them,  were,  on 
the  whole,  in  sympathy  with  these  conservatives.  Through  the  de\aces 
of  his  friends  in  the  city  government,  Buonaparte's  battaUon,  the  second, 


9g  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  22 

Chap,  xn  was  OB.  One  pretext  or  another  assembled  in  and  around  the  town. 
179T-92  Thereupon,  according  to  the  most  probable  account,  which  is  supported 
by  Buonaparte's  own  story,  a  demand  was  made  that  according  to  the 
recent  ecclesiastical  legislation  of  the  National  Assembly,  the  Capuchin 
monks,  who  had  been  so  far  undisturbed,  should  evacuate  their  friary. 
Feehng  ran  so  high  that  the  other  volunteer  companies  were  sum- 
moned; they  arrived  on  April  first.  At  once  the  public  order  was 
jeopardized:  on  one  extreme  were  the  religious  fanatics,  on  the  other 
the  poUtical  agitators,  both  of  whom  were  loud  with  threats  and  ready 
for  violence.  In  the  middle,  between  two  fires,  was  the  mass  of  the 
people,  who  sympathized  with  the  ecclesiastics,  but  wanted  peace  at 
any  hazard.  Quarrehng  began  first  between  individuals  of  the  various 
factions,  but  it  soon  resulted  in  conflicts  between  civilians  and  the 
volunteer  guard.  The  first  step  taken  by  the  military  was  to  seize  and 
occupy  the  cloister,  which  lay  just  below  the  citadel,  the  final  goal  of 
theu'  leader,  whoever  he  was,  and  the  townsfolk  believed  it  was  Buona- 
parte. Once  inside  the  citadel  waUs,  the  Corsicans  in  the  regular 
French  service  would,  it  was  hoped,  fraternize  with  their  kia;  with 
such  a  beguming  all  the  garrison  might  in  time  be  won  over. 

This  further  exasperated  the  ultramontanes,  and  on  Easter  day, 
April  eighth,  they  made  demonstrations  so  serious  that  the  scheming 
commander — Buonaparte  again,  it  was  beheved — found  the  much  de- 
sired pretext  to  interfere ;  there  was  a  melee,  and  one  of  the  militia 
officers  was  killed.  Next  morning  the  bm-ghers  found  then*  town  beset 
by  the  volunteers.  Good  citizens  kept  to  their  houses,  while  the  acting 
mayor  and  the  council  were  assembled  to  authorize  an  attack  on  the 
citadel.  The  authorities  could  not  agree,  and  dispersed;  the  following 
forenoon  it  was  discovered  that  the  acting  mayor  and  his  sympathizers 
had  taken  refuge  in  the  citadel.  From  the  vantage  of  this  stronghold 
they  proposed  to  settle  the  difficulty  by  the  arbitration  of  a  board  com- 
posed of  two  from  each  side,  under  the  presidency  of  the  commandant. 
There  was  again  no  agreement. 

Worn  out  at  last  by  the  haggling  and  delay,  an  officer  of  the  garri- 
son finally  ordered  the  militia  officers  to  withdi'aw  their  forces.  By  the 
advice  of  some  detei-mined  radical — Buonaparte  agaia  in  all  probability 
—  the  latter  flatly  refused,  and  the  night  was  spent  in  preparation  for 
a  conflict  which  seemed  inevitable.  But  early  in  the  morning  the  com- 
missioners of  the  department,  who  had  been  sent  by  Paoh  to  preserve 


^T.22]  BONAPARTE    THE    CORSICAN   JACOBIN  99 

the  peace,  amved  in  a  body.  They  were  welcomed  gladly  by  the  chap.  xn 
majority  of  the  people,  and,  after  hearing  the  case,  tlisniisscd  the  bat-  179T-92 
taUon  of  volunteers  to  various  posts  in  the  sm-rounding  countiy.  Pub- 
Uc  opinion  immediately  timied  against  Buonaparte,  convinced  as  the 
populace  was  that  he  was  the  author  of  the  entire  distiu-bance.  The 
commander  of  the  gamson  was  embittered,  and  sent  a  report  to  the 
war  department  displaying  the  young  officer's  behavior  in  the  most 
unfavorable  light.  Buonaparte's  defense  was  contained  in  a  manifesto 
which  made  the  citizens  still  more  furious  by  its  declaration  that  the 
whole  civic  structiu-e  of  theu'  town  was  worthless,  and  should  have 
been  overthrown. 

The  aged  PaoH  found  his  situation  more  trying  with  every  day. 
Under  a  constitutional  monarchy,  such  as  he  had  admired  and  studied 
in  England,  such  as  he  even  yet  hoped  for  and  expected  in  France,  he 
had  believed  his  own  land  might  find  a  virtual  autonomy.  With  riot 
and  disorder  in  every  town,  it  would  not  be  long  before  the  absolute 
disquaHfication  of  his  countrymen  for  self-government  would  be  proved 
and  the  French  administration  restored.  For  his  present  purpose, 
therefore,  the  peace  must  be  kept,  and  Buonaparte,  upon  whom,  whether 
justly  or  not,  the  blame  for  these  recent  broils  rested,  must  be  removed 
elsewhere,  if  possible ;  but  as  the  troublesome  youth  was  the  son  of  an 
old  friend  and  the  head  of  a  still  influential  family,  it  must  be  done 
without  offense.  The  government  at  Paris  might  be  pacified  if  the  ab- 
sentee officer  were  restored  to  his  post ;  with  Quenza  in  command  of 
the  volunteers  there  would  be  little  danger  of  a  second  outbreak  in 
Ajaccio. 

It  was  more  than  easy,  therefore,  for  the  discredited  revolutionary, 
on  condition  that  he  should  leave  Corsica,  to  secure  from  the  authori- 
ties the  papers  necessary  to  put  himself  and  his  actions  in  the  most  fa- 
vorable hght.  Buonaparte  armed  himself  accordingly  with  an  authen- 
ticated certificate  as  to  the  posts  he  had  held,  and  the  period  during 
which  he  had  held  them,  and  with  another  as  to  his  "  civism  " —  the 
phrase  used  at  that  time  to  designate  the  quality  of  friendliness  to  the 
Revolution.  The  former  seems  to  have  been  framed  according  to  his 
own  statements,  and  was  speciously  deceptive.  Valence,  where  the  roy- 
aUst  colonel  regarded  him  as  a  deserter,  was  of  coiu'se  closed,  and  in 
Paris  alone  could  the  necessary  steps  be  taken  to  secure  restoration  to 
rank  with  back  pay,  or  rather  the  reversal  of  the  whole  record  as  it  then 


100 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  22 


Chap,  xn  stood  on  the  regimental  books.  For  this  reason  he  hkewise  secm*ed 
179T-92  letters  of  introduction  to  the  leading  Corsicans  in  the  French  capital, 
and,  borrowing  money  for  the  jom'ney,  sailed  from  Bastia  on  May 
second,  1792.  The  outlook  might  have  disheartened  a  weaker  man. 
Peraldi,  the  Corsican  deputy,  was  a  brother  of  the  defeated  rival; 
Paoh's  displeasure  was  only  too  manifest;  the  bitter  hate  of  a  large 
element  in  Ajaccio  was  unconcealed.  Rejected  by  Corsica,  would 
France  receive  him?  Would  not  the  few  French  friends  he  had  be 
likewise  ahenated  by  these  last  escapades  ?  Could  the  formal  record 
of  regimental  offenses  be  expunged?  In  any  event,  how  shght  the 
prospect  of  success  in  the  great  mad  capital,  amid  the  convulsive 
thi'oes  of  a  nation's  disorders ! 

But  in  the  last  consideration  lay  his  only  chance :  the  nation's  dis- 
order was  to  supply  the  remedy  for  Buonaparte's  irregularities.  The 
King  had  refused  his  sanction  to  the  secularization  of  the  estates  which 
had  once  been  held  by  the  emigrants  and  recusant  ecclesiastics;  the 
Jacobins  retorted  by  open  hostility  to  the  monarchy.  The  plotting  of 
noble  and  princely  refugees  with  various  royal  and  other  schemers  two 
years  before  had  been  a  crime  against  the  King  and  the  constitutional- 
ists, for  it  jeopardized  their  last  chance  for  existence,  even  their  very 
Hves.  Within  so  short  a  time  what  had  been  criminal  in  the  emigrants 
had  seemingly  become  the  only  means  of  self-preservation  for  then'  in- 
tended victim.  His  constitutional  supporters  recognized  that,  in  the 
adoption  of  this  coiu'se  by  the  King,  the  last  hope  of  a  peaceful  solution 
to  their  awfid  problem  had  disappeared.  It  was  now  cei-taiu  and  gen- 
erally known  that  Louis  himself  was  in  negotiation  with  the  foreign 
sovereigns ;  to  thwart  his  plans  and  avert  the  consequences  it  was 
essential  that  open  hostilities  against  his  secret  aUies  should  be  begiui. 
Consequently,  on  April  twentieth,  1792,  war  had  been  declared  flgainst 
Austria  by  influence  of  the  King's  friends.  The  populace,  awed  by  the 
armies  thus  caUed  out,  were  at  first  silently  defiant,  an  attitude  which 
changed  to  open  fmy  when  the  defeat  of  the  French  troops  in  the  Aus- 
trian Netherlands  was  announced. 

The  moderate  repubhcans,  or  Grirondists,  as  they  were  called  fi-om 
the  district  where  they  were  strongest,  were  now  the  mediating  party; 
their  leader,  Roland,  was  summoned  to  form  a  ministiy  and  appease 
this  popular  rage.  It  was  one  of  his  colleagues  who  had  examined 
the  complaint  against  Buonaparte  received  fi'om  the  commander  of  the 


IN    THE    MUSEITM    OP    AJACCIO,    CORSICA 


THE   YOUNG    NAPOLEON 

KROM    A    MABBLK    BUST    BY    AN     UNKNOWN    SCinJTOB 


^T.  22]  BONAPARTE    THE    CORSICAN   JACOBIN  101 

garrison  at  Ajaccio.  According  to  a  strict  interpretation  of  the  Chap,  xu 
militaiy  code  there  was  scarcely  a  ciime  which  Buonaparte  had  not  1791-92 
committed:  desertion,  disobedience,  tampering,  attack  on  constituted 
authority,  and  abuse  of  official  power.  The  minister  reported  the 
conduct  of  both  Quenza  and  Buonaparte  as  most  reprehensible,  and 
declared  that  if  their  offense  had  been  purely  military  he  would  have 
court-martialed  them. 

Learning  fii'st  at  Marseilles  that  war  had  broken  out,  and  that  the 
companies  of  his  regiment  were  dispersed  to  various  camps  for  active 
service,  Buonaparte  hastened  northward.  A  new  passion,  which  was 
indicative  of  the  freshly  awakened  patriotism,  had  taken  possession  of 
the  popular  fancy.  Where  the  year  before  the  current  and  universal 
phrase  had  been  "  federation,"  the  talk  was  now  all  for  the  "  nation." 
It  might  well  be  so.  Before  the  traveler  arrived  at  his  destination  fur- 
ther disaster  had  overtaken  the  French  army,  one  whole  regiment  had 
deserted  imder  arms  to  the  enemy,  and  individual  soldiers  were  escap- 
ing by  hundreds.  The  officers  of  the  Fourth  Ai-tilleiy  were  resigning 
and  running  away  in  about  equal  numbers.  Consternation  ruled  su- 
preme, treason  and  imbecility  were  everywhere  charged  against  the 
authorities.  War  within,  war  without,  and  the  army  in  a  state  of  col- 
lapse !  The  emigrant  princes  would  return,  and  France  be  sold  to  a 
bondage  tenfold  more  galling  than  that  fi*om  which  she  was  stnigghng 
to  free  herself. 

When  Buonaparte  reached  Paris  on  May  twenty-eighth,  1792,  there 
was  a  poor  outlook  for  a  suppliant,  bankrupt  in  funds  and  nearly  so 
in  reputation ;  but  he  was  undaunted,  and  his  application  for  reinstate- 
ment in  the  artillery  was  made  without  the  loss  of  a  moment.  A  new 
minister  of  war  had  been  appointed  but  a  few  days  before, — there 
were  six  changes  in  that  office  duiing  as  many  months, — and  the  assis- 
tant now  in  charge  of  the  artillery  seemed  favorable  to  the  request. 
For  a  moment  he  thought  of  restoring  the  supphant  to  his  position, 
but  events  were  marching  too  swiftly,  and  demands  more  urgent  jos- 
tled aside  the  claims  of  an  obscure  Ueutenant  with  a  shady  character. 
Buonaparte  at  once  gi'asped  the  fact  that  he  could  win  his  cause  only 
by  patience  or  by  importunity,  and  began  to  consider  how  he  should 
an'ange  for  a  prolonged  stay  iu  the  capital.  His  scanty  resom-ces  were 
abeady  exhausted,  but  he  found  Bom-rienne,  a  former  school-fellow  at 
Brienne,  in  equal  straits,  waiting  hke  himself  for  something  to  tm-n 


2Q2  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  22 

Chap,  xn  up.  Over  their  meals  in  a  cheap  restaurant  on  the  Rue  St.  Honore 
179T-92  they  discussed  various  means  of  gaining  a  livehhood,  and  seriously 
contemplated  a  partnership  in  subletting  fui-nished  rooms.  But  Bour- 
rienne  very  quickly  obtained  the  post  of  secretary  in  the  embassy  at 
Stuttgart,  so  that  his  comrade  was  left  to  make  his  struggle  alone  by 
pawning  what  few  articles  of  value  he  possessed. 

The  days  and  weeks  were  full  of  incidents  terrible  and  suggestive  in 
then*  nati^re.  The  Assembly  dismissed  the  King's  body-guard  on  May 
twenty-ninth ;  on  Jime  thirteenth,  the  Grirondists  were  removed  fi-om 
the  ministry;  within  a  few  days  it  was  known  at  court  that  Prussia  had 
taken  the  field  as  an  ally  of  Austria,  and  on  the  seventeenth  a  conserva- 
tive, Feuillant  cabinet  was  formed.  Three  days  later  the  popular  insur- 
rection began,  on  the  twenty-sixth  the  news  of  the  coahtion  was  an- 
nounced, and  on  the  twenty-eighth  Lafayette  endeavored  to  stay  the 
tide  of  fm-ious  discontent  which  was  now  rising  in  the  Assembly.  But 
it  was  as  ruthless  as  that  of  the  ocean,  and  on  July  eleventh  the  comitry 
was  declared  in  danger.  There  was,  however,  a  temporary  check  to  the 
rush,  a  moment  of  repose  in  which  the  King,  on  the  fourteenth,  cele- 
brated among  his  people  the  fall  of  the  Bastille.  But  an  address  from 
the  local  assembly  at  Marseilles  had  arrived,  demanding  the  dethrone- 
ment of  Louis  and  the  abohtion  of  the  monarchy.  Such  was  the  im- 
patience of  that  city  that,  without  waiting  for  the  logical  effect  of  their 
declaration,  its  inhabitants  detennined  to  make  a  demonstration  m 
Paris.  On  the  thirtieth  a  deputation  five  hundred  strong  arrived  before 
the  capital.  On  August  third,  they  entered  the  city  singing  the  im- 
mortal song  which  bears  their  name,  but  which  was  written  at  Strasburg 
by  an  officer  of  engineers,  Rouget  de  Lisle.  The  southern  fire  of  the 
newcomers  kindled  again  the  flame  of  Parisian  sedition,  and  the  radi- 
cals fanned  it.  At  last,  on  August  tenth,  the  conflagration  burst  forth 
in  an  uprising  such  as  had  not  yet  been  seen  of  all  that  was  outcast  and 
lawless  in  the  great  town;  with  them  consorted  the  discontented  and  the 
envious,  the  giddy  and  the  frivolous,  the  cimous  and  the  fickle,  all  the 
unstable  elements  of  society.  This  time  the  King  was  unnerved ;  in  de- 
spair he  fled  for  asylum  to  the  chamber  of  the  Assembly.  That  body, 
unsympathetic  for  him,  but  sensitive  to  the  ragings  of  the  mob  without, 
found  the  fugitive  unworthy  of  his  office.  Before  night  the  kingship 
was  abohshed,  and  the  royal  family  were  imprisoned  in  the  Temple. 
There  is  no  proof  that  the  young  Corsican  was  at  this  time  other 


^T.  22]  BONAPARTE    THE    CORSICAX    JACOBIN  103 

than  an  interested  spectator.  We  hear  of  him  as  visiting  his  sister  chap,  xn 
Elisa  at  St.  Cyi-,  and  in  a  letter  wiitten  on  June  eighteenth  he  specu-  179U92 
lates  on  her  fate,  and  on  the  chance  of  her  manying  without  a  dot.  In 
quiet  times,  the  wards  of  St.  Cyi-  received,  on  leaving,  a  dowiy  of  three 
thousand  livres,  with  three  hundi-ed  more  for  an  outfit;  but  as  matters 
then  were,  the  establishment  was  breaking  up  and  there  were  no  funds 
for  that  piu'pose.  Like  the  rest,  the  Corsican  gh'l  was  soon  to  be  stripped 
of  her  pretty  uniform,  the  neat  silk  gown,  the  black  gloves,  and  the 
dainty  bronze  shppers  which  Mme.  de  Maintenon  had  prescribed  for  the 
noble  damsels  at  that  royal  school.  In  another  letter  written  foiu-  days 
later  there  is  a  graphic  account  of  the  threatening  demonstrations  made 
by  the  rabble  and  a  vivid  description  which  indicates  Napoleon's  being 
present  when  the  mob  recoiled  at  the  very  door  of  the  Ttdleries  before 
the  calm  and  dignified  courage  of  the  King.  There  is  even  a  story,  told 
as  of  the  time,  by  Bourrienne,  a  very  doubtful  authority,  but  probably 
invented  later,  of  Buonaparte's  openly  expressing  contempt  for  riots. 
"How  could  the  King  let  the  rascals  in!  He  should  have  shot  down  a 
few  hundred,  and  the  rest  would  have  run."  This  statement,  hke  others 
made  by  Bom'rienne,  is  to  be  received  with  the  utmost  caution. 

In  a  letter  written  about  the  beginning  of  July,  probably  to  Lucien 
or  possibly  to  Joseph,  and  evidently  intended  to  be  read  in  the  Jacobin 
Club  of  Ajaccio,  there  are  clear  indications  of  its  wi'iter's  temper.  He 
speaks  with  judicious  calmness  of  the  project  for  educational  reform ; 
of  Lafayette's  appearance  before  the  Assembly,  which  had  pronounced 
the  country  in  danger  and  was  now  sitting  in  permanence,  as  perhaps 
necessary  to  prevent  its  taking  an  extreme  and  dangerous  course ;  of 
the  French  as  no  longer  deserving  the  pains  men  took  for  them,  since 
they  were  a  people  old  and  without  continuity  of  coherence ;  *  of  their 
leaders  as  poor  creatures  engaged  in  low  plots;  and  of  the  damper 
which  such  a  spectacle  puts  on  ambition.     Clearly  the  lesson  of  mod- 

1  The  rare  and  curious  pamphlet  entitled  "  Manu-  powers   of   Europe.     The    republic    made    a    new 

scrit  de  rile  d'Elbe,"  attributed  to  Montholon  and  France  by  emancipating  the  Gauls  from  the  rule 

probably  published  by  Edward  O'Meara,  contains  of  the  Franks.     The  people  had  raised  their  leader 

headings  for  ten  chapters  which  were  dictated  by  to  the  imperial  throne  in  order  to  consolidate  their 

Napoleon  at  Elba  on  February  twenty-second,  181.5.  new  interests:  this  was  the  fourth  dj-nasty,  etc.,  etc. 

The  argument  is:  The  Bourbons  ascended  the  throne,  The  contemplated  book  was  to  work  out  in  detail 

in  the  person  of  Henry  IV.,  by  conquering  the  so-  this  very  conception  of  a  nation  as  passing  through 

called  Holy  League  against  the  Protestants,  and  by  successive  phases:  at  the  close  of  each  it  is  worn 

the  consent  of  the  people ;  a  third  dynasty  thus  fol-  out,  but  a  new  rule   regi^ncrates  it,  throwing  off 

lowed  the  second;  then  came  the  republic,  and  its  the  incrustations  and  gi^niig  room  to  the  life  within, 

succession  was  legitimated  by  victory,  by  the  will  It  is  interesting  to  note  t)ie  genesis  of  Napoleon's 

of  the  people,  and  by   the    recognition  of  all  the  ideas  and  the  pertinacity  with  which  he  held  them. 


104  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  22 

Chap,  xn    eration  which  he  inculcates  is  for    the    first  time   sincerely  given, 

1791^92      The  preacher,  according  to  his  own  judgment  for  the  time  being,  is  no 

Frenchman,  no  demagogue,  nothing  but  a  simple  Corsican  anxious  to 

hve  far  from  the  madness  of  mobs  and  the  emptiness  of  so-called  glory. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  on  the  di-eadful  day  of  August  tenth  Buona- 
parte's assumed  philosophy  was  laid  aside,  and  that  he  was  a  mob 
leader  at  the  bamcades.  His  own  account  of  the  matter  does  not  bear 
this  out.  "I  felt,"  said  he,  "as  if  I  should  have  defended  the  King  if 
called  to  do  so.  I  was  opposed  to  those  who  would  foimd  the  repub- 
Hc  by  means  of  the  populace.  Besides,  I  saw  civilians  attacking  men 
in  uniforms ;  that  gave  me  a  shock."  He  said  further  in  his  reminis- 
cences that  he  viewed  the  entire  scene  from  the  windows  of  a  furniture 
shop  kept  by  Fauvelet,  an  old  school  fiiend.  The  impression  left  after 
reading  his  narrative  of  the  frightful  carnage  before  the  Tuileries,  of  the 
indecencies  committed  by  frenzied  women  at  the  close  of  the  fight, 
of  the  mad  excitement  in  the  neighboring  cafes,  and  of  his  own  calm- 
ness throughout,  is  that  he  was  in  no  way  connected  either  with  the 
actors  or  their  deeds,  except  to  shout  "  Hurrah  for  the  nation ! "  when 
siunmoned  to  do  so  by  a  gang  of  ruffians  who  were  parading  the  streets 
under  the  banner  of  a  gory  head  elevated  on  a  pike.  The  truth  of 
his  statements  cannot  be  established  by  any  collateral  evidence. 

It  is  not  likely  that  an  ardent  radical  leader  like  Buonaparte,  well 
known  and  influential  in  the  Rhone  valley,  had  remained  a  stranger  to 
the  Marseilles  deputation.  If  the  Duchesse  d'Abrantes  be  worthy  of 
any  credence,  he  was  very  influential,  and  displayed  great  activity  with 
the  authorities  during  the  seventh  and  eighth,  running  hither,  thither, 
everywhere,  to  secure  redress  for  an  illegal  domiciliary  visit  which  her 
mother,  Mme.  Permon,  had  received  on  the  seventh.  But  her  testi- 
mony is  of  very  httle  value,  such  is  her  anxiety  to  establish  an  early 
intimacy  with  the  great  man  of  her  time.  Joseph,  in  his  memoirs,  de- 
clares that  his  brother  was  present  at  the  conflict  of  August  tenth,  and 
that  Napoleon  wrote  him  at  the  time,  "  If  Loms  XVI.  had  appeared  on 
horseback,  he  would  have  conquered."  "After  the  victory  of  the  Mar- 
seiUais,"  continues  the  passage  quoted  from  the  letter,  "  I  saw  a  man 
about  to  kill  a  soldier  of  the  guard.  I  said  to  him,  '  Southron,  let  us 
spare  the  unfortunate ! '  'Art  thou  from  the  South'?'  'Yes.'  'WeU, 
then,  we  wiU  spare  him.' "  Moreover,  it  is  a  fact  that  Santerre,  the 
notorious  leader  of  the  mob  on  that  day,  was  three  years  later,  on  the 


r 
> 

n 

> 

w 


^T.22]  BONAPARTE    THE    CORSICAN   JACOBIN  105 

thirteenth  of  Venclemiaire,  most  useful  to  Buonaparte;  that  though  de-  Chap,  xn 
graded  from  the  office  of  general  to  which  he  was  appointed  in  the  im-m 
revolutionary  army,  he  was  in  1800  restored  to  his  rank  by  the  Fu-st 
Consul.  All  this  is  consistent  with  Napoleon's  assertion,  but  it  proves 
nothing  conclusively;  and  there  is  certainly  groimd  for  suspicion  when 
we  reflect  that  these  events  were  ultimately  decisive  of  Buonaparte's 
fortunes. 

The  Feuillant  ministry  fell  with  the  King,  and  an  executive  council 
composed  of  radicals  took  its  place.  For  one  single  day  Paris  reeled 
hke  a  drunkard,  but  on  the  next  the  shops  were  open  again.  On  the 
following  Sunday  the  opera  was  packed  at  a  benefit  performance  for 
the  widows  and  oi"phans  of  those  who  had  fallen  ia  \dctoiy.  A  few 
days  later  Lafayette,  as  commander  of  the  armies  in  the  North,  issued 
a  pronunciamento  against  the  popular  excesses.  He  even  arrested  the 
commissioners  of  the  Assembly  who  were  sent  to  supplant  him  and  take 
the  ultimate  direction  of  the  campaign.  But  he  quickly  found  that  his 
old  prestige  was  gone ;  he  had  not  kept  pace  with  the  mad  rush  of 
popular  opinion ;  neither  in  person  nor  as  the  sometime  commander  of 
the  National  Guard  had  he  any  longer  the  shghtest  influence.  Im- 
peached and  declared  an  outlaw,  he  lost  his  balance  hke  the  King,  and 
fled  for  refuge  into  the  possessions  of  Liege.  The  Austrians  violated 
the  sanctuary  of  neutral  territory,  and  captured  him,  exactly  as  Napo- 
leon at  a  later  day  violated  the  neutrality  of  Baden  in  the  case  of  the 
Due  d'Enghien.  On  August  twenty-thii'd  the  strong  place  of  Longwy 
was  dehvered  into  the  hands  of  the  Prussians,  the  capitulation  being 
due,  as  was  claimed,  to  treachery  among  the  French  officers. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

bonapaete  the  feench  jacobin 

Reinstatement  and  Promotion — Further  Solicitation — Napoleon 
AND  Elisa — Occupations  in  Paris — Return  to  Ajaccio — Disor- 
ders IN  Corsica  —  Bonaparte  a  French  Jacobin  —  Expedition 
AGAINST  Sardinia — Course  of  French  Affairs — Paoli's  Changed 
Attitude — Estrangement  of  Bonaparte  and  Paoli — Mischances 
IN  THE  Preparations  against  Sardinia — Failure  of  the  French 
Detachment — Bonaparte  and  the  Fiasco  of  the  Corsican  De- 
tachment— Further  Developments  in  France — England's  Pol- 
icy—  Paoli  in  Danger  —  Denounced  and  Summoned  to  Pabis. 

Chap,  xm  fTHHE  committee  to  which  Buonaparte's  request  for  reinstatement  was 
1792-93  J_  refen*ed  made  a  report  on  June  twenty-fii'st,  1792,  exonerating 
him  from  blame.  The  reasons  given  were  evidently  based  on  the  rep- 
resentations of  the  suppUant  himself,  first  that  Duteil,  the  inspector, 
had  given  him  permission  to  sail  for  Corsica  in  time  to  avoid  the  equi- 
nox, a  distorted  truth,  and  second  that  the  Corsican  authorities  had 
certified  to  his  civism,  his  good  conduct,  and  his  constant  presence  at 
home  during  his  irregular  absence  from  the  army,  a  truthful  statement, 
but  incomplete,  since  no  mention  was  made  of  the  disgraceful  Easter 
riots  at  Ajaccio  and  of  Buonaparte's  share  in  them.  On  July  tenth 
the  Minister  of  War  adopted  the  committee's  report,  and  this  fact  was 
announced  iil  a  letter  addressed  by  him  to  Captain  Buonaparte ! 

A  formal  report  in  his  favor  was  drawn  up  on  August  twentieth. 
On  the  thirtieth  he  was  completely  reinstated,  or  rather  his  record  was 
entirely  sponged  out  and  consigned,  as  was  hoped,  to  oblivion ;  for  his 
captain's  commission  was  dated  back  to  February  sixth,  1792,  the 
day  on  which  his  promotion  would  have  occurred  in  due  com-se  if  he 


81 


^T.  23]  BONAPARTE    THE    FRENCH   JACOBIN  107 

had  been  present  in  full  standing  with  his  regiment.     His  arrears  for   chap,  xra 
that  rank  were  to  be  paid  in  full.  1792-03 

Such  success  was  intoxicathig.  Monge,  the  groat  mathematician, 
had  been  his  master  at  the  military  sfthool  in  Paris,  and  was  now  min- 
ister of  the  navy.  True  to  his  nature,  with  the  carelessness  of  an  ad- 
venturer and  the  effrontery  of  a  gambler,  the  newly  fledged  captain 
promptly  put  in  an  application  for  a  position  as  heutenant-colonel  of 
artOlery  in  the  sea  service.  The  authorities  must  have  thought  the 
petition  a  joke,  for  the  paper  was  pigeonholed,  and  has  been  found 
marked  S.  R,,  that  is,  sans  reponse — without  reply.  Probably  it  was 
written  in  earnest,  the  motive  being  possibly  an  invincible  distaste  for 
the  regiment  in  which  he  had  been  disgi-aced,  which  was  still  m  com- 
mand of  a  colonel  who  was  not  disposed  to  leniency. 

An  easy  excuse  for  shirking  duty  and  returning  to  the  old  habits  of 
a  Corsican  agitator  was  at  hand.  The  events  of  August  tenth  settled 
the  fate  of  all  monarchical  institutions,  even  those  which  were  partly 
charitable.  Among  other  royal  foundations  suppressed  by  the  Assem- 
bly on  August  eighteenth  was  that  of  St.  Cyr,  formally  styled  the 
Estabhshment  of  St.  Louis.  The  date  fixed  for  closing  was  just  sub- 
sequent to  Buonaparte's  promotion,  and  the  pupUs  were  then  to  be 
dismissed.  Each  beneficiary  was  to  receive  a  mileage  of  one  livi-e  for 
every  league  she  had  to  traverse.  Three  hundred  and  fifty-two  was 
the  sTim  due  to  Ehsa.  Some  one  must  escort  an  unprotected  girl  on  the 
long  journey;  no  one  was  so  suitable  as  her  elder  brother  and  natural 
protector.  Accordingly,  on  September  first,  the  brother  and  sister  ap- 
peared before  the  proper  authorities  to  apply  for  the  traveling  allow- 
ance of  the  latter.  Whatever  other  accomphshments  Mile,  de  Buona- 
parie  had  learned  at  the  school  of  St.  Louis,  she  was  still  as  deficient 
in  writing  and  spelling  as  her  brother.  The  formal  requisitions  widtten 
by  both  are  still  extant ;  they  would  infuiuate  any  conscientious  teacher 
in  a  primary  school.  But  they  suf&ced ;  the  money  was  paid  on  the  next 
day,  and  that  night  the  brother  and  sister  lodged  in  the  Holland  Pa- 
triots' Hotel  in  Paris,  where  they  appear  to  have  remained  for  a  week. 

This  is  the  statement  of  an  early  biographer,  and  appears  to  be 
borne  out  by  an  autogi-aph  letter  of  Napoleon's,  recently  found,  in 
which  he  says  he  left  Paris  on  a  date  which,  although  the  figure  is 
blurred,  seems  to  be  the  ninth.  Some  days  would  be  necessary  for 
the  new  captain  to  procure  a  fm'ther  leave  of  absence.     Judging  from 


108 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 


Chap,  xih  Subsequent  events,  it  is  possible  that  he  was  also  seeking  further  ae- 
179T-93  quaiutauce  and  favor  with  the  influential  Jacobins  of  Paris.  During 
the  days  from  the  second  to  the  seventh  more  than  a  thousand  of  thfe 
royahsts  confined  in  the  prisons- of  Paris  were  massacred.  It  seems 
incredible  that  a  man  of  Napoleon's  temperament  should  have  seen  and 
known  nothing  of  the  riotous  events  connected  with  such  bloodshed. 
Yet  nowhere  does  he  hint  that  he  had  any  personal  knowledge.  It 
is  possible  that  he  left  earher  than  is  generally  supposed,  but  it  is  not 
hkely  in  \dew  of  the  known  dates  of  his  journey.  In  any  case  he  did 
not  seriously  compromise  himself,  doing  at  the  most  nothing  fmiiher 
than  to  make  plans  for  the  future.  It  may  have  become  clear  to  him, 
for  it  was  true  and  he  behaved  accordingly,  that  Erance  was  not  yet 
ready  for  him,  nor  he  for  France. 

It  is,  moreover,  a  strong  indication  of  Buonaparte's  interest  in  the 
French  Revolution  being  purely  tentative  that  as  soon  as  the  desired 
leave  was  granted,  probably  in  the  second  week  of  September,  without 
waiting  for  the  all-important  fifteen  hundred  hvres  of  arrears,  now  due 
him,  but  not  paid  until  a  month  later,  he  and  his  sister  set  out  for 
home.  They  traveled  by  dUigence  to  Lyons,  and  thence  by  the 
Rhone  to  Marseilles.  Dm-ing  the  few  hours'  halt  of  the  boat  at 
Valence,  Napoleon's  friends,  among  them  some  of  his  creditors,  who 
apparently  bore  him  no  grudge,  waited  on  him  with  kindly  manifes- 
tations of  interest.  His  former  landlady,  Mme.  Bou,  although  her  biU 
had  been  but  insignificantly  diminished  by  payments  on  account, 
brought  as  her  gift  a  basket  of  the  fruit  in  which  the  neighborhood 
abounds  at  that  season.  The  regiment  was  no  longer  there,  the  greater 
portion,  with  the  colonel,  being  now  on  the  northeastern  frontier  under 
Dumouriez,  facing  the  victorious  legions  of  Prussia  and  Austria.  On 
the  fourteenth  the  travelers  were  at  Marseilles,  next  day  they  sailed  for 
Corsica,  and  on  the  seventeenth  Buonaparte  was  once  more  in  his 
home,  no  longer  so  confident,  perhaps,  of  a  career  among  his  own 
people,  but  determined  to  make  another  effort.  It  was  his  fourth 
retm-n.  Lucien  and  Fesch  were  leaders  in  the  radical  club;  Joseph 
was  at  his  post ;  Louis,  as  usual,  was  disengaged  and  idle ;  Mme.  Buo- 
naparte and  the  younger  children  were  well ;  he  himseK  was  of  course 
triumphantly  vindicated  by  his  promotion.  The  ready  money  from  the 
fortune  of  the  old  archdeacon  was  long  since  exhausted,  to  be  sure ;  but 
the  excellent  vineyards,   mulberry  plantations,   and   gardens   of  the 


IN    TBE    MUSECM    OF   VERSAIIXES 


JEANNE-MARIE-IGNACE-THERESE   DE   CABARRUS 


MADAME    TALLIEN 


KHOM    THK    fAINTINO     IlY    KltANCulK    uf.UAHD 


^T.23]  BONAPARTE    THE   FRENCH    JACOBIN  109 

family  properties  were  still  productive,  and  Napoleon's  private  purse    chap.  xni 
would  soon  be  replenished  by  the  quartermaster  of  his  regiment.  ivoa^oa 

The  course  of  affairs  in  Fi-ance  had  materially  changed  the  aspect 
of  Corsican  poUtics ;  the  situation  was,  if  anything,  more  favorable  for 
a  revolutionary  venture  than  ever  before.  SaUcetti  had  come  back  to 
Corsica  after  the  adjournment  of  the  Constituent  Assembly  with  many 
new  ideas  which  he  had  gathered  from  observing  the  conduct  of  the 
Paris  commune,  and  these  he  unsparingly  disseminated  among  his 
sympathizers.  They  proved  to  be  apt  scholars,  and  quickly  caught  the 
tricks  of  demagogism,  bribery,  coiTuption,  and  malversation  of  the 
pubhc  fimds.  He  had  returned  to  France  before  Buonaparte  anived, 
as  a  member  of  the  newly  elected  legislatm-e,  but  his  evil  influence 
survived  his  departui'e,  and  his  heutenants  were  ubiquitous  and  active. 
Paoli  had  been  rendered  helpless,  and  was  simk  in  despair.  He  was 
now  commander-in-chief  of  the  regular  troops  in  garrison,  but  it  was  a 
position  to  which  he  had  been  appointed  against  his  will,  for  it  weak- 
ened his  influence  with  his  own  party.  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  his  stanch 
supporter  and  Buonaparte's  enemy,  was  attorney-general  in  Sahcetti's 
stead.  As  Paoli  was  at  the  same  time  general  of  the  volunteer  guard, 
the  entu-e  power  of  the  islands,  mihtary  and  civil,  was  in  his  hands : 
but  the  responsibility  for  good  order  was  likewise  his,  and  the  people 
were,  if  anything,  more  unruly  than  ever;  for  it  was  to  then-  minds 
illogical  that  their  idol  should  exercise  such  supreme  power,  not  as 
a  Corsican,  but  in  the  name  of  France.  The  composition  of  the  two 
chief  parties  had  therefore  changed  materially,  and  although  their 
respective  views  were  modified  to  a  certain  extent,  they  were  more 
embittered  than  ever  against  each  other. 

Buonaparte  coxdd  not  be  neutral ;  his  nature  and  his  sujroundings 
forbade  it.  His  first  step  was  to  resimie  his  command  in  the  vohm- 
teers,  and,  under  pretext  of  inspecting  their  posts,  to  make  a  journey 
through  the  island ;  his  second  was  to  go  through  the  form  of  seeking 
a  reconcihation  with  Paoh.  In  the  clubs,  among  his  fi'iends  and  sub- 
ordinates at  the  various  military  stations,  his  talk  was  loud  and  imperi- 
ous, his  manner  haughty  and  assuming.  A  letter  written  by  him  at 
the  time  to  Costa,  one  of  the  militia  heutenants  and  a  thorough  Cor- 
sican, explains  that  the  writer  is  detained  from  going  to  Bonifacio  by 
an  order  from  the  general  (Paoh)  to  come  to  Corte ;  he  will,  however, 
hasten  to  his  post  at  the  head  of  the  volunteers  on  the  very  next  day, 


110 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 


Chap,  xhi  and  there  will  be  an  end  to  all  disorder  and  iiTegularity.  "  Greet  our 
179I-93  Mends,  and  assure  them  of  my  desii^e  to  further  their  interests."  The 
epistle  was  written  in  Italian,  but  that  fact  signifies  httle  in  comparison 
with  the  new  tone  used  in  speaking  about  France :  "  The  enemy  has 
abandoned  Verdun  and  Longwy,  and  recrossed  the  river  to  return 
home,  but  our  people  are  not  asleep."  Lucien  added  a  postscript  ex- 
plaining that  he  had  sent  a  pamphlet  to  his  dear  Costa,  as  to  a  friend, 
not  as  to  a  co-worker,  for  that  he  had  been  unwilling  to  be.  Both  the 
brothers  seem  already  to  have  considered  the  possibility  of  abandoning 
Corsica. 

No  sooner  had  war  been  declared  against  Austria  in  April,  than  it 
became  evident  that  the  powers  whose  territories  bordered  on  those  of 
France  had  previously  reached  an  agi-eement,  and  were  about  to  form  a 
coahtion  in  order  to  make  the  war  general.  The  Austrian  Netherlands, 
what  we  now  know  as  Belgium,  were  already  saturated  with  the  revo- 
lutionary spirit.  It  was  not  probable  that  much  annoyance  would 
come  from  that  quarter.  Spain,  Prussia,  and  Holland  would,  how- 
ever, sm'ely  join  the  aUiance;  and  if  the  Itahan  principahties,  with 
the  kingdom  of  Sardinia,  should  take  the  same  coui'se,  France  would 
be  in  dire  straits.  It  was  therefore  suggested  in  the  Assembly  that 
a  blow  should  be  stiiick  at  the  house  of  Savoy,  in  order  to  awe 
both  that  and  the  other  coui-ts  of  Italy  into  inactivity.  The  idea  of  an 
attack  on  Sardinia  for  this  purpose  originated  in  Corsica,  but  among 
the  friends  of  SaUcetti,  and  it  was  he  who  urged  the  scheme  success- 
fully. In  order  to  secure  Paoh's  influence  not  only  in  his  own  island, 
but  in  Sardinia,  where  he  was  hkewise  well  known  and  admired,  the 
ministers  forced  upon  him  the  unwelcome  appointment  of  heutenant- 
general  in  the  regular  army,  and  his  friend  Peraldi  was  sent  to  prepare 
a  fleet  at  Toulon. 

The  events  of  August  tenth  put  an  end  for  the  time  being  to  con- 
stitutional government  in  France.  The  commissioners  of  the  Paris 
sections  supplanted  the  municipal  council,  and  Danton,  climbing  to 
power  as  the  representative  "  plain  man,"  became  momentarily  the  pre- 
siding genius  of  the  new  Jacobin  commune,  which  was  soon  able  to 
usm-p  the  supreme  control  of  France.  A  call  was  issued  for  the  elec- 
tion by  manhood  suffrage  of  a  National  Convention,  and  a  committee 
of  surveillance  was  appointed  with  the  bloodtMi-sty  Marat  as  its  motive 
power.    At  the  instigation  of  this  committee  large  numbers  of  royahsts, 


^T.  23]  BONAPARTE    THE    FRENCH   JACOBIN  m 

constitutionalists,  and  others  suspected  of  holding  kindred  doctrines,  Chap.  xm 
were  thrown  into  prison.  The  Assembly  went  thi-ough  the  foi-ni  of  mi^w 
confirming  the  new  despotism,  including  both  the  commune  of  the  sec- 
tions and  a  Jacobin  ministry  in  which  Danton  held  the  portfolio  of 
justice.  It  then  dispersed.  On  September  second  began  that  general 
clearance  of  the  jails  under  mock  forms  of  justice  to  which  reference 
has  been  made.  It  was  reaUy  a  massacre,  and  lasted,  as  has  been  said, 
for  five  days.  Versailles,  Lyons,  Meaux,  Rheims,  and  Orleans  were 
similarly  "  purified."  Amid  these  scenes  the  immaculate  Robespierre, 
whose  hands  were  not  soiled  with  the  blood  spiUed  on  August  tenth, 
appeared  as  the  calm  statesman  controlling  the  wild  vagaries  of  the 
rough  and  impulsive  but  luiselfish  and  uncalculating  Danton.  These 
two,  with  Phihp  Egahte  and  Collet  d'Herbois,  were  among  those  elected 
to  represent  Paris  in  the  Convention.  That  body  met  on  September 
twenty-first.  As  they  sat  in  the  amphitheater  of  the  Assembly,  the 
Gu'ondists,  or  moderate  repubhcans,  who  were  in  a  strong  majority, 
were  on  the  right  of  the  president's  chair.  High  up  on  the  extreme 
left  were  the  Jacobins,  or  "  Mountain  " ;  between  were  placed  those 
timid  trimmers  who  were  called  the  "  Plain  "  and  the  "  Marsh  "  accord- 
ing to  the  degree  of  their  democratic  sentiments.  The  members  were, 
of  course,  without  exception  republicans.  The  first  act  of  the  Conven- 
tion was  to  abohsh  the  monarchy,  and  to  declare  France  a  republic. 
The  next  was  to  establish  an  executive  council.  It  was  decreed  that 
September  twenty-second,  1792,  was  the  "  fu-st  day  of  the  year  I  of 
the  repubhc."  Under  the  leadership  of  Brissot  and  Roland  the  Gu-on- 
dists  asserted  then-  power  as  the  majority,  endeavoring  to  restore  order 
in  Paris,  and  to  bridle  the  extreme  Jacobins.  But  notwithstanding  its 
right  views  and  its  numbers,  the  Grii-ondist  party  displayed  no  sagacity ; 
before  the  year  I  was  three  months  old,  the  unscrupulous  Jacobins, 
with  the  aid  of  the  Paris  commune,  had  reasserted  their  supremacy. 
The  declaration  of  the  repubhc  only  hastened  the  execution  of  Sah- 
cetti's  plan  regarding  Sardinia,  and  the  Convention  was  more  energetic 
than  the  Assembly  had  been.  The  fieet  was  made  ready,  troops  from 
France  were  to  be  embarked  at  ViUefranche,  and  a  force  composed  in 
part  of  regulars,  in  part  of  mihtia,  was  to  be  equipped  in  Corsica  and 
to  sail  thence  to  join  the  main  expedition.  Buonapai-te's  old  battahon 
was  among  those  that  were  selected  from  the  Corsican  volunteers. 
From  the  outset  Paoh  had  been  unfriendly  to  the  scheme ;  its  sup- 


112  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 

Chap.  XIII  porters,  whose  zeal  far  outran  theii*  means,  were  not  his  friends. 
1792-93  Nevertheless,  he  was  in  supreme  command  of  hoth  regulars  and  volun- 
teers, and  the  government  having  authorized  the  expedition,  the  neces- 
sary orders  had  to  be  issued  thi'ough  him  as  the  only  channel  of 
authority.  Buonaparte's  reappearance  among  his  men  had  been  of 
course  irregular.  Being  now  a  captain  of  artillery  in  the  Fourth 
Regiment,  on  active  service  and  in  the  receipt  of  full  pay,  he  could  no 
longer  legally  be  a  heutenant-colonel  of  volunteers,  a  position  which 
had  also  been  made  one  of  emolument.  But  he  was  not  a  man  to 
stand  on  sUght  formahties,  and  had  evidently  determined  to  seize  both 
horns  of  the  dilemma. 

Paoh,  as  a  French  official,  of  course  could  not  hsten  for  an  instant 
to  such  a  preposterous  notion.  But  as  a  patriot  anxious  to  keep  all 
the  influence  he  could,  and  as  a  family  friend  of  the  Buonapartes,  he 
was  unvdlling  to  order  the  young  captain  back  to  his  post  in  France, 
as  he  might  well  have  done.  The  interview  between  the  two  men  at 
Corte  was,  therefore,  indecisive.  The  older  was  benignant  but  firm  in 
refusing  his  formal  consent ;  the  younger  pretended  to  be  indignant 
that  he  could  not  secure  his  rights :  it  is  said  that  he  even  threatened 
to  denounce  in  Paris  the  anti-nationalist  attitude  of  his  former  hero. 
So  it  happened  that  Buonaparte  returned  to  Ajaccio  with  a  permissive 
authorization,  and,  welcomed  by  his  men,  assumed  a  command  to 
which  he  could  have  no  claim,  while  Paoh  shut  his  eyes  to  an  act  of 
flagrant  insubordination.  Paoh  saw  that  Buonaparte  was  irrevocably 
committed  to  revolutionary  France;  Buonaparte  was  convinced,  or  pre- 
tended to  be,  that  Paoh  was  again  leaning  toward  an  Enghsh  protec- 
torate. French  imperiahst  writers  hint  without  the  sKghtest  basis  of 
proof  that  both  Paoli  and  Pozzo  di  Borgo  were  in  the  pay  of  England. 
Many  have  beheved,  in  the  same  gratuitous  manner,  that  there  was  a 
plot  among  members  of  the  French  party  to  give  Buonaparte  the 
chance,  by  means  of  the  Sardinian  expedition,  to  seize  the  chief  com- 
mand at  least  of  the  Corsican  troops,  and  thus  eventually  to  supplant 
Paoh.  If  this  conjecture  be  true,  Paoh  either  knew  nothing  of  the 
conspiracy,  or  behaved  as  he  did  because  his  own  plans  were  not  yet 
ripe.  The  drama  of  his  own  personal  perplexities,  cross-purposes,  and 
ever  false  positions  was  rapidly  moving  to  an  end ;  the  logic  of  events 
was  too  strong  for  the  upright  but  perplexed  old  patriot,  and  a  scene 
or  two  would  soon  complete  the  final  act  of  his  pubhc  career. 


^T.  23]  BONAPARTE    THE    FRENCH    JACOBIN  113 

The  plan  for  invading  Sardinia  was  over-complex  and  too  nicely  ad-  chap.  xiii 
justed.  One  portion  of  the  fleet  was  to  skirt  the  Itahan  shores,  make  1792^3 
demonstrations  in  the  various  harbors,  and  demand  in  one  of  them  — 
that  of  Naples  —  pubHc  reparation  for  an  insult  ah'eady  offered  to  the 
new  French  flag,  which  displayed  the  three  colors  of  hberty.  The 
other  portion  was  first  to  embark  the  Corsican  gaaards  and  French 
troops  at  Ajaccio,  then  to  imite  with  the  former  in  the  Bay  of  Pahna, 
whence  both  were  to  proceed  against  Caghari.  Bitt  the  French  soldiers 
to  be  taken  from  the  Anny  of  the  Var  mider  General  Anselme  were  in 
fact  non-existent;  the  only  mihtary  force  to  be  found  was  a  portion  of 
the  Marseilles  national  guard  —  mere  boys,  unequipped,  imtramed,  and 
inexperienced.  Winds  and  waves,  too,  were  adverse :  two  of  the  vessels 
were  wrecked,  and  one  was  disabled.  The  rest  were  badly  demoralized, 
and  then"  crews  became  unruly.  On  the  arrival  of  the  ships  at  Ajaccio, 
a  party  of  roistering  sailors  went  ashore,  affiliated  immediately  with 
the  French  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  and  in  the  rough  horse-play  of 
such  occasions  picked  a  quarrel  with  certain  of  the  Corsican  mihtia, 
killing  two  of  their  number.  The  character  of  the  islanders  showed 
itself  at  once  in  further  violence  and  the  fiercest  threats.  The  tumidt 
was  finally  allayed,  but  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  for  Corsicans  and 
MarseiUais  to  be  embarked  on  the  same  vessel  was  to  invite  mutiny, 
riot,  and  bloodshed. 

Buonaparte  thought  he  saw  his  way  to  an  independent  command, 
and  at  once  proposed  what  was  manifestly  the  only  alternative — a 
separate  Corsican  expedition.  The  French  fleet  accordingly  embarked 
the  garrison  troops,  and  proceeded  on  its  way ;  the  Corsicans  remained 
ashore,  and  Buonaparte  with  them.  Scenes  hke  that  at  Ajaccio  were 
repeated  in  the  harbor  of  St.  Florent,  and  the  attack  on  Caghari  by  the 
French  failed,  partly,  as  might  be  supposed,  fi'om  the  poor  equipment 
of  the  fleet  and  the  wretched  quahty  of  the  men,  partly  because  the 
two  flotillas,  or  what  was  left  of  them,  failed  to  effect  a  junction  at  the 
appointed  place  and  time.  When  they  did  imite,  it  was  February 
f oui'teenth,  1793 ;  the  men  were  iU  fed  and  mutinous ;  the  troops  that 
landed  to  stoitn  the  place  fell  into  a  panic,  and  would  actually  have 
surrendered  if  the  officers  had  not  quickly  reembarked  them.  The 
costly  enterprise  met  with  but  a  single  success  :  Naples  was  cowed,  and 
the  cornet  promised  neutrahty,  with  reparation  for  the  insult  to  the 
tricolor. 


2;^4  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 

Chap,  xhi  The  Corsican  expedition  was  quite  as  ill-starred  as  tlie  French. 
1792-93  Paoli  accepted  Buonaparte's  plan,  but  appointed  Ms  nephew,  Colonna- 
Cesari,  to  lead,  with  instructions  to  see  that,  if  possible,  "this  unfortu- 
nate expedition  shall  end  ia  smoke."  The  disappointed  but  stubborn 
young  aspu-ant  remaiaed  in  his  subordinate  place  as  an  officer  of  the 
second  battalion  of  the  Corsican  national  guard.  It  was  a  month 
before  the  volunteers  could  be  equipped  and  a  French  corvette  with 
her  attendant  feluccas  could  be  made  ready  to  sail.  On  February 
twentieth,  1793,  the  vessels  were  finally  armed,  manned,  and  pro- 
visioned. The  destination  of  the  flotilla  was  the  Magdalena  Islands,  one 
of  which  is  Caprera,  siace  renowned  as  the  home  of  Graribaldi.  The 
troops  embarked  and  put  to  sea.  Almost  at  once  the  wind  fell ;  there 
was  a  two  days'  calm,  and  the  ships  reached  their  destination  with 
diminished  supphes  and  dispirited  crews.  The  first  attack,  made  on 
St.  Stephen,  was  successful.  Buonaparte  and  his  gims  were  then 
landed  on  that  spot  to  bombard,  across  a  narrow  strait,  Magdalena,  the 
chief  town  on  the  main  island.  The  enemy's  fire  was  soon  silenced, 
and  nothing  remained  but  for  the  corvette  to  work  slowly  round  the 
intervening  island  of  Caprera,  and  take  possession.  The  vessel  had  suf- 
fered shghtly  fi'om  the  enemy's  fire,  two  of  her  crew  having  been  kiUed. 
On  the  pretense  that  a  mutiny  was  imminent,  Colonna-Cesari  declared 
that  cooperation  between  the  sloop  and  the  shore  batteries  was  no 
longer  possible ;  the  artillery  and  their  commander  were  reembarked 
only  with  the  utmost  difficulty;  the  unlucky  expedition  returned  on, 
February  twenty-seventh  to  Bonifacio.  Both  Buonaparte  and  Quenza 
were  enraged  with  Paoh's  nephew,  declaring  him  to  have  acted  traitor- 
ously. It  is  significant  of  the  utter  anarchy  then  prevaihng  that  no- 
body was  punished  for  the  disgraceful  fiasco.  Buonaparte,  on  landing, 
at  once  bade  farewell  to  his  volunteers.  When  he  entered  Ajaccio,  on 
March  third,  he  found  that  he  was  no  longer,  even  by  assumption,  a 
heutenant-colonel;  for  during  his  short  absence  the  whole  Corsican 
guard  had  been  disbanded  to  make  way  for  two  battahons  of  hght  in- 
fantry whose  officers  were  to  be  appointed  by  the  directory  of  the 
island. 

Strange  news  now  greeted  his  ears.  Much  of  what  had  occurred 
since  his  departure  from  Paris  he  already  knew.  France  having  de- 
stroyed root  and  branch  the  tyranny  of  feudal  privileges,  the  whole 
social  edifice  was  slack  in  every  joint,  and  there  was  no  strong  hand  to 


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^T.  23]  BONAPARTE    THE    FRENCH   JACOBIN  115 

tighten  the  bolts ;  for  the  King,  in  dallying  with  foreign  eoui-ts,  had  Chap,  xm 
vii-tually  deserted  his  people.  The  monarchy  had  therefore  fallen,  hut  1792-93 
not  until  its  friends  had  resorted  to  the  expedient  of  a  foreign  war  as  a 
prop  to  its  fortunes.  The  early  victories  won  by  Austria  and  Prussia 
had  stung  the  nation  to  madness.  RobespieiTe  and  Danton  having 
become  dictators,  all  moderate  pohcy  was  echpsed.  The  executive 
council  of  the  Convention,  determined  to  appease  the  nation,  gathered 
their  strength  in  one  vigorous  effort,  and  put  three  gi-eat  armies  in  the 
field.  On  November  sixth,  1792,  to  the  amazement  of  the  world, 
Dumouriez  won  the  battle  of  Jemmapes,  thus  conquei-ing  the  Austrian 
Netherlands  as  far  north  as  Liege.  The  Scheldt,  which  had  been 
closed  since  1648  through  the  influence  of  England  and  Holland,  was 
reopened,  trade  resumed  its  natural  channel,  and,  in  the  exuberance  of 
popular  joy,  measures  were  taken  for  the  immediate  estabhshment  of 
a  Belgian  repubhc.  The  other  two  armies,  under  Custine  and  Keller- 
mann,  were  less  successful.  The  former,  having  occupied  Frankfort, 
was  driven  back  to  the  Rhine ;  the  latter  defeated  the  Allies  at  Valmy, 
but  failed  in  the  task  of  coming  to  Custine's  support  at  the  proper 
moment  for  combined  action.  Meantime  the  agitation  in  Paris  had 
taken  the  form  of  personal  aniznosity  to  "  Louis  Capet,"  as  the  leaders 
of  the  disordered  populace  called  the  King.  In  November  he  was  sum- 
moned to  the  bar  of  the  Convention  and  questioned.  When  it  came  to 
the  consideration  of  an  actual  trial,  the  Girondists,  wilhng  to  save  the 
prisoner's  hfe,  claimed  that  the  Convention  had  no  jiu-isdiction,  and 
must  appeal  to  the  sovereign  people  for  authorization.  The  Jacobins 
insisted  on  the  sovereign  power  of  the  Convention,  Robespierre  protest- 
ing in  the  name  of  the  people  against  an  appeal  to  the  people.  Sup- 
ported by  the  noisy  outcries  not  only  of  the  Parisian  populace,  but  of 
theu"  followers  elsewhere,  the  radicals  prevailed.  By  a  vote  of  three 
hundred  and  sixty-six  to  three  hundred  and  fifty-five  the  verdict  of 
death  was  pronounced  on  January  seventeenth,  1793,  and  fom*  days 
later  the  sentence  was  executed.  This  act  was  a  defiance  to  all 
monarchs,  or,  in  other  words,  to  all  Europe. 

The  younger  Pitt  was  at  this  junctm-e  prime  minister  of  England. 
Like  the  majority  of  his  countrymen,  he  had  mildly  approved  the 
course  of  the  French  Revolution  down  to  1789 ;  with  them  in  the  same 
way  his  opinions  had  since  that  time  undergone  a  change.  By  the  aid 
of  Burke's  biased  but  masterful  eloquence  the  Enghsh  people  were 


116 


LIFE    OP   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 


Chap,  xiii  giwduaUy  convinced  that  Jacobinism,  violence,  and  crime  were  the 
1797-93  essence  of  the  movement,  constitutional  reform  but  a  specious  pretext. 
Between  1789  and  1792  there  was  a  rising  tide  of  adverse  pubHc  senti- 
ment so  swift  and  strong  that  Pitt  was  unable  to  follow  it.  By  the 
execution  of  Louis  the  Enghsh  moderates  were  silenced;  the  news 
was  received  with  a  cry  of  horror,  and  the  nation  demanded  war. 
Were  kings'  heads  to  fall,  and  repubhcan  ideas,  supported  by  repubU- 
can  armies,  to  spread  hke  a  conflagration  1  The  still  monarchical  hb- 
erals  of  England  could  give  no  answer  to  the  case  of  Louis  or  to  the 
instance  of  Belgium,  and  were  stunned.  The  Enghsh  anti-Jacobins 
became  as  fanatical  as  the  French  Jacobins.  Pitt  could  not  resist  the 
torrent.  Yet  in  his  extreme  necessity  he  saw  his  chance  for  a  double 
stroke  :  to  throw  the  blame  for  the  war  on  France,  and  to  consolidate 
once  more  his  nearly  vanished  power  in  Parhament.  With  masterly 
adi'oitness  France  was  tempted  into  a  declaration  of  war  against  Eng- 
land. Enthusiasm  raged  in  Paris  like  fii-e  among  dry  stubble.  Prance, 
if  so  it  must  be,  against  the  world !  Liberty  and  equahty  her  religion ! 
The  land  a  camp !  The  entire  people  an  army !  Three  hundred  thou- 
sand men  to  be  selected,  equipped,  and  drilled  at  once ! 

Nothing  indicates  that  Buonaparte  was  in  any  way  moved  by  the  ter- 
rible massacres  of  September,  or  even  by  the  news  of  Louis's  unmerited 
fate.  But  the  declaration  of  war  was  a  novelty  which  must  have 
deeply  interested  him;  for  what  was  Paoli  now  to  do?  From  gratitude 
to  England  he  had  repeatedly  and  earnestly  declared  that  he  could 
never  take  up  arms  against  her.  He  was  ah^eady  a  heutenant -general 
in  the  service  of  her  enemy,  his  division  was  assigned  to  the  feeble  and 
disorganized  Army  of  Italy,  which  was  nominally  being  equipped  for 
active  service,  and  the  leadership,  so  ran  the  news  received  at  Ajaccio, 
had  been  conferred  on  the  Corsican  director.  The  fact  was  that  the 
radicals  of  the  Convention  had  long  been  aware  of  the  old  patriot's 
devotion  to  constitutional  monarchy,  and  now  saw  their  way  to  be  rid 
of  so  dangerous  a  foe.  Three  successive  commanders  of  that  army  had 
abeady  found  disgrace  in  their  attempts  with  inadequate  means  to  dis- 
lodge the  Sardinian  troops  from  the  mountain  passes  of  the  Maritime 
Alps.  Mindful,  therefore,  of  their  fate,  and  of  his  obligations  to  Eng- 
land, Paoli  firmly  refused  the  proffered  honor.  Suspicion  as  to  the 
existence  of  an  Enghsh  party  in  the  island  had  early  been  awakened 
among  the  members  of  the  Mountain ;  for  half  the  Corsican  delegation 


iET.  23]  BONAPARTE    THE    FRENCH    JACOBIN  117 

to  the   Convention  had  opposed  the  sentence  passed  on  the  King.    chap.  xin 
When  the  ill-starred  Sardinian  expedition  reached  Toulon,  the  blame  of      1792-93 
failure  was  laid  by  the  Jacobins  on  Paoh's  shoulders. 

Sahcetti,  who  was  now  a  real  power  among  the  leaders  at  Paris, 
felt  that  he  must  hasten  to  his  department  in  order  to  forestall  events, 
if  possible,  and  keep  together  the  remnants  of  sympathy  with  France ; 
he  was  appointed  one  of  a  commission  to  enforce  in  the  island  the  de- 
crees of  the  Convention.  The  commission  was  well  received  and  the 
feehng  against  France  was  being  rapidly  aUayed  when,  most  unex- 
pectedly, fatal  news  arrived  from  Paris.  In  the  pi-eceding  November 
Lucien  Buonaparte  had  made  the  acquaintance  in  Ajaccio  of  Huguet  de 
Semonville,  who  was  on  his 'way  to  Constantinople  as  a  special  envoy  of 
the  provisory  council  then  in  charge  of  the  Paris  administration.  The 
ambassador  was  recalled  to  the  mainland  on  February  second,  1793,  and 
took  his  new-foimd  friend  with  him  as  secretary  or  useful  man.  Both 
were  firm  Jacobins,  and  the  master  having  failed  in  making  any  im- 
pression on  Paoh  dtu'ing  his  Corsican  sojoimi,  the  man  took  revenge  by 
denouncing  the  heiitenant-general  as  a  traitor  before  a  political  meeting 
in  Toulon.  An  addi'ess  calumniating  the  Corsican  leader  in  the  most 
excited  terms  was  sent  to  the  deputy  of  the  department  in  Paris.  The 
news  of  the  defection  of  Dumouriez  had  just  arrived,  pubhc  opinion 
was  inflamed,  and  on  April  second  Paoh,  who  seemed  likely  to  be  a  sec- 
ond Dumouriez,  was  summoned  to  appear  before  the  Convention.  For 
a  moment  he  became  again  the  most  popular  man  in  Corsica.  He  had 
always  retained  many  warm  personal  friends  even  among  the  radicals; 
the  royaUsts  were  now  forever  ahenated  from  a  government  which  had 
killed  their  king ;  the  church  could  no  longer  expect  protection  when 
impious  men  were  in  power.  These  three  elements  united  immediately 
with  the  Paohsts  to  protest  against  the  arbitrary  act  of  the  Convention. 
Even  in  that  land  of  confusion  there  was  a  degree  of  chaos  hitherto 
unequaled. 


u 


CHAPTER  XIV 


A  JACOBIN   HEJTRA 


The  Waning  of  Bonaparte's  Patriotism — Alliance  with  Salicetti 
—  Another  Scheme  for  Leadership — Failure  to  Seize  the 
Citadel  of  Ajacgio — Second  Plan — Paoli's  Attitude  toward 
the  Convention — Bonaparte  Finally  Discredited  in  Corsica — 
Paoli  Turns  to  England — Plans  of  the  Bonaparte  Family 
— Their  Arrival  in  Toulon — Napoleon's  Character — His  Cor- 
sicAN  Career — Lessons  of  his  Failures — His  Ajbility,  Situation, 
AND  Experience. 

CHAP.xrv  T)UONAPARTE  was  for  an  instant  among  the  most  zealous  of 
1793  J_3  Paoli's  supporters,  and,  taking  up  Ms  ever-ready  pen,  he  wrote  two 
impassioned  papers  whose  respective  tenors  it  is  not  easy  to  reconcile : 
one  an  appeal  to  the  Convention  in  Paoh's  behalf,  the  other  a  demand 
addi-essed  to  the  municipahty  of  Ajaccio  that  the  people  should  renew 
their  oath  of  allegiance  to  France.  The  captain's  French  regiment  had 
already  been  some  five  months  in  active  service.  If  his  passion  had 
been  only  for  military  glory,  that  was  to  be  found  nowhere  so  certainly 
as  in  its  ranks,  where  he  should  have  been.  But  his  passion  for  pohti- 
cal  renown  was  clearly  far  stronger.  Where  could  it  be  so  easily  grati- 
fied as  in  Corsica  imder  the  present  conditions  ?  The  personahty  of  the 
young  adventurer  had  for  a  long  time  been  curiously  double :  but  while 
he  had  successfully  retained  the  position  of  a  French  officer  in  France, 
his  identity  as  a  Corsican  patriot  had  been  nearly  obhterated  in  Corsica 
by  his  constant  quarrels  and  repeated  failures.  Having  become  a 
French  radical,  he  had  been  forced  into  a  certain  antagonism  to  Paoh 
and  had  thereby  jeopardized  both  his  fortunes  and  his  career  as  far  as 
they  were  dependent  on  Corsican  support.  But  with  Paoh  imder  the 
ban  of  the  Convention,  and  suspected  of  connivance  with  English 

us 


-a;T.23]  A  JACOBIN    HEJIRA  119 

schemes,  there  might  be  a  revulsion  of  feehng  and  a  chance  to  make  Chap.  xrv 
French  influence  paramount  once  more  in  the  island  under  the  leader-  1793 
ship  of  the  Buonapartes  and  their  fi-iends.  For  the  moment  Napoleon 
preserved  the  outward  semblance  of  the  Corsican  patriot,  but  he  seems 
to  have  been  weaiy  at  heart  of  the  thankless  role  and  entirely  ready  to 
exchange  it  for  another.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  plan  or  the 
principles  of  his  conduct,  it  appears  as  if  the  decisive  step  now  to 
be  taken  had  no  relation  to  either  plan  or  principles,  but  that  it  was 
forced  upon  him  by  a  chance  development  of  events  which  he  could 
not  have  foreseen,  and  which  he  was  utterly  unable  to  control. 

It  is  unknown  whether  SaUcetti  or  he  made  the  first  advances  in 
coming  to  an  understanding  for  mutual  support,  or  when  that  under- 
standing was  reached,  but  it  existed  as  early  as  January,  1793,  a  fact 
conclusively  shown  by  a  letter  of  the  former  dated  early  in  that  month. 
It  was  April  fifth  when  SaUcetti  reached  Corsica ;  the  news  of  Paoli's- 
denunciation  by  the  Convention  anived,  as  has  been  said,  on  the  seven- 
teenth. Seeing  how  nicely  adjusted  the  scales  of  local  poMtics  were,  the 
deputy  was  eager  to  secure  favor  from  Paris,  and  wrote  on  the  sixteenth 
an  account  of  how  warmly  his  commission  had  been  received.  Next 
day  the  blow  of  Paoli's  condemnation  fell,  and  it  became  plain  that 
compromise  was  no  longer  possible.  "When  even  the  Buonapartes  were 
supporting  Paoh,  the  reconcihation  of  the  island  with  France  was 
clearly  impracticable.  Sahcetti  did  not  hesitate,  but  as  between  Paoli 
and  Corsica  with  no  career  on  the  one  side,  and  the  possibihties  of  a 
gi"eat  career  under  France  on  the  other,  quickly  chose  the  latter.  The 
same  considerations  weighed  with  Buonaparte,  he  followed  his  patron, 
and  as  a  reward  was  appointed  by  the  French  commission  inspector- 
general  of  artilleiy  for  Corsica. 

Sahcetti  had  granted  what  Paoh  would  not :  Buonaparte  was  free  to 
strike  his  blow  for  Corsican  leadership.  With  swift  and  decisive  mea- 
sures the  last  scene  in  his  Corsican  adventures  was  an'anged.  Several 
great  guns  which  had  been  saved  from  a  war-ship  wrecked  in  the  har- 
bor were  lying  on  the  shore  unmounted.  The  inspector-general  hypo- 
critically declared  that  they  were  a  temptation  to  insurgents  and  a 
menace  to  the  public  peace ;  they  should  be  stored  in  the  citadel.  His 
plan  was  to  seize  the  moment  when  the  heavy  pieces  were  passing  the 
drawbridge,  and  at  the  head  of  his  followers  to  take  possession  of  the 
stronghold  he  had  so  long  coveted,  and  so  often  failed  to  capture.    If 


120  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 

Chap.  XIV    he  could  hold  it  for  the  Convention,  a  career  in  Corsica  would  be  at 
1793       last  assured. 

But  again  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  The  former  garrison 
had  been  composed  of  French  soldiers.  On  the  failure  of  the  Sardinian 
expedition  most  of  these  had  been  landed  at  Toulon,  where  they  still 
were.  The  present  one  was  largely  made  up  of  islanders,  although  some 
French  infantry  and  the  French  gunners  were  still  there;  the  new 
commander  was  a  Paohst  who  refused  to  be  hoodwinked,  and  would 
not  act  without  an  authorization  from  his  general-in-chief.  The  value 
of  the  seizui'e  depended  on  its  promptness.  In  order  to  secure  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  faithful  followers  Buonaparte  started  on  foot  for  Bastia 
to  consult  the  commission.  Learning  that  he  was  ah'eady  a  suspect  at 
Corte  and  in  danger  of  arrest,  he  turned  on  his  steps  only  to  be  con- 
fronted at  Bocognano  by  a  band  of  Peraldi's  followers.  Two  shepherds 
from  his  own  estate  found  a  place  of  concealment  for  him  in  a  house 
belongmg  to  then*  fiiends,  and  he  passed  a  day  in  hiding,  escaping 
after  nightfall  to  Ucciani,  whence  he  returned  to  Ajaccio  in  safety. 
Thwarted  in  one  notion,  Buonaparte  then  proposed  to  the  followers  he 
already  had  two  alternatives :  to  erect  a  barricade  behind  which  the 
guns  could  be  mounted  and  trained  on  the  citadel,  or,  easier  still,  to 
carry  one  of  the  pieces  to  some  spot  before  the  main  entrance  and  then 
batter  in  the  gate.  Neither  scheme  was  considered  feasible,  and  it  was 
determined  to  secure  by  bribes,  if  possible,  the  cooperation  of  a  portion 
of  the  gai-rison.  The  attempt  failed  through  the  integrity  of  a  single 
man,  and  is  interesting  only  as  having  been  Napoleon's  first  lesson  in  an 
art  which  was  thenceforward  an  unfailing  resource.  Rumors  of  these 
proceedings  soon  reached  Paoh,  and  Buonaparte  was  simimoned  to 
report  immediately  at  Corte.  Such  was  the  intensity  of  popular  bitter- 
ness against  him  in  Ajaccio  for  his  desertion  of  Paoh  that  he  was  com- 
pelled, after  seeking  in  vain  a  safe  refuge,  to  flee  in  disguise  to  Bastia, 
which  he  reached  on  May  tenth,  1793. 

A  desire  for  revenge  on  his  Corsican  persecutors  would  now  give  an 
additional  stimulus  to  Buonaparte,  and  stni  another  device  to  secure 
the  passionately  desired  citadel  of  Ajaccio  was  proposed  by  him  to  the 
commissioners  of  the  Convention,  and  adopted  by  them.  The  remnants 
of  a  Swiss  regiment  stationed  near  by  were  to  be  marched  into  the  city, 
as  if  for  embarkment;  several  French  war  vessels  from  the  harbor  of  St. 
Florent,  including  one  frigate,  with  troops,  munitions,  and  artillery  on 


i 


liEJABTMENT 


1,N.jUA\L1..    liY    li.    U.    lli-rZE 


LAZARE-NICOLAS-MARGUERITE  CARNOT 

WAK    MINISTER    OF    FRANCE     1 793-9?,    POPULARLY    CALLED 
"THE   ORGANIZER  OF   VICTORY" 


KROU    Tut    PAINTING     BY    LRJEUNE 


^T.  23]  A  JACOBIN    HEJIRA  121 

board,  were  to  appear  unexpectedly  before  the  city,  land  their  men  chap.  xrv 
and  guns,  and  then,  with  the  help  of  the  Switzers  and  such  of  the  citi-  nas 
zens  as  espoused  the  French  cause,  were  to  overawe  the  town  and  seize 
the  citadel.  Corsican  affans  had  now  reached  a  crisis,  for  this  was  a 
vu'tual  declaration  of  war.  PaoU  so  understood  it,  and  nieasui-es  of 
mutual  defiance  were  at  once  taken  by  both  sides.  The  French  com- 
missioners formally  deposed  the  officials  who  sympathized  with  Paoli ; 
they,  in  tiu'n,  took  steps  to  increase  the  garrison  of  Ajaccio,  aud  to 
strengthen  the  popular  sentiment  in  then*  favor. 

On  receipt  of  the  news  that  he  had  been  summoned  to  Paris  and  the 
hostile  commissioners  sent  to  take  his  place,  Paoli  immediately  for- 
warded, by  the  hands  of  two  friendly  representatives,  a  temperate  letter 
offering  to  resign  and  leave  Corsica.  His  messengers  were  seized  and 
temporarily  detained,  but  in  the  end  they  reached  Paris,  and  were  kindly 
received.  On  May  twenty-ninth  they  appeared  on  the  floor  of  the  Con- 
vention, and  won  their  cause.  On  June  fifth  the  former  decree  was  re- 
voked, and  two  days  later  a  new  and  friendly  conunission  of  two  members 
started  for  Corsica.  But  at  Aix  they  f eU  into  the  hands  of  a  royahst  mob, 
and  were  arrested.  Ignorant  of  these  favorable  events,  and  the  mitoward 
circumstances  by  which  their  effect  was  thwarted,  the  disheartened 
statesman  had  written  and  forwarded  on  May  f om'teenth  a  second  letter, 
of  the  same  tenor  as  the  first.  This  measure  hkewise  had  failed  of 
effect,  for  the  messenger  had  been  stopped  at  Bastia,  now  the  focus  of 
Sahcetti's  influence,  and  the  letter  had  never  reached  its  destination. 

It  was  probably  in  this  interval  that  Paoh  finally  adopted,  as  a  last 
desperate  resort,  the  hitherto  hazy  idea  of  putting  the  island  imder 
Enghsh  protection,  in  order  to  maintain  himself  in  the  mission  to  which 
he  felt  that  Providence  had  called  him.  The  actual  departure  of  Napo- 
leon's expedition  from  St.  Florent  gave  the  final  impulse.  That  event 
so  inflamed  the  passions  of  the  conservative  party  in  Ajaccio  that  the 
whole  Buonaparte  family  was  compelled  to  fly  from  then*  home  for 
safety,  leaving  their  small  estates  to  be  ravaged  and  then'  slender  re- 
sources to  be  destroyed,  while  their  partizans  were  proscribed  or  im- 
prisoned. They  finally  foimd  a  temporary  asylum  with  a  relative  in 
Calvi.  The  attacking  flotilla  had  been  detained  nearly  a  week  by  a 
stoi-m,  and  reached  Ajaccio  on  May  twenty-ninth,  in  the  very  height  of 
these  turmoils.  It  was  too  late  for  any  possibihty  of  success.  The  few 
French  troops  on  shore  were  cowed,  and  dared  not  show  themselves 

17 


222  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t,  23 

Chap,  xtv  wlien  a  party  landed  from  the  ships.  On  the  contrary,  Napoleon  and  his 
1793  volunteers  were  received  with  a  fire  of  musketry,  and,  after  spending 
two  anxious  days  in  an  outlying  tower  which  they  had  seized  and  held, 
were  glad  to  reembark  and  sail  away.  Their  leader  rejoined  his  family 
at  Calvi.  The  Jacobin  commission  held  a  meeting,  and  determined  to 
send  Sahcetti  to  justify  then*  course  at  Paris.  He  earned  with  him  a 
wordy  paper  widtten  by  Buonaparte  in  his  worst  style  and  spelling, 
setting  forth  the  mihtary  and  pohtical  situation  in  Corsica,  and  con- 
taming  a  bitter  tu'ade  against  PaoU,  which  remains  to  lend  some  color 
to  the  charge  that  the  writer  had  been,  since  his  leader's  retiu'n  from 
exile,  a  spy  and  an  informer,  influenced  by  no  high  principle  of  patriot- 
ism, but  only  by  a  base  ambition  to  supplant  the  aged  president,  and 
then  to  adopt  whichever  plan  would  best  further  his  own  interest : 
ready  either  to  establish  a  virtual  autonomy  in  his  fatherland,  or  to  de- 
liver it  entirely  into  the  hands  of  France.  f 

In  this  painful  document  Buonaparte  sets  forth  in  fiery  phrase  the 
early  enthusiasm  of  repubhcans  for  the  return  of  Paoh,  and  their  disil- 
lusionment when  he  surrounded  himself  with  venal  men  like  Pozzo  di 
Borgo,  with  relatives  like  his  nephew  Leonetti,  with  his  vile  creatures 
in  general.  The  misfortunes  of  the  Sardinian  expedition,  the  disgrace- 
ful disorders  of  the  island,  the  failm-e  of  the  commissioners  to  secure 
Ajaecio,  are  all  alike  attributed  to  Paoli.  "  Can  perfidy  like  this  invade 
the  human  heart?  .  .  .  What  fatal  ambition  overmasters  a  graybeard 
of  sixty-eight  ?  ...  On  his  face  are  goodness  and  gentleness,  in  his 
heart  hate  and  vengeance ;  he  has  an  oily  sensibility  in  his  eyes,  and 
gall  in  his  soul,  but  neither  character  nor  strength."  These  were  the 
sentiments  proper  to  a  radical  of  the  times,  and  they  found  acceptance 
among  the  leaders  of  that  class  in  Paris.  More  moderate  men  did 
what  they  could  to  avert  the  impending  breach,  but  in  vain.  Corsica 
was  far,  communication  slow,  and  the  misunderstanding  which  oc- 
curred was  consequently  unavoidable.  It  was  not  until  July  first  that 
Paoh  received  news  of  the  pacificatory  decrees  passed  by  the  Conven- 
tion more  than  a  month  before,  and  then  it  was  too  late ;  groping  in 
the  dark,  and  unable  to  get  news,  he  had  formed  his  judgment  from 
what  was  going  on  in  Corsica,  and  had  therefore  committed  himself  to 
a  change  of  pohcy.  To  him,  as  to  most  thinking  men,  the  entire  struc- 
ture of  France,  social,  financial,  and  pohtical,  seemed  rotten.  Civil 
war  had  broken  out  in  Vendee  ;  in  Brittany  the  wildest  excesses  passed 


^T.  23]  A  JACOBIN    HEJIRA  123 

impiinished;  the  great  cities  of  Marseilles,  Toulon,  and  Lyons  were  chap.  xiv 
in  a  state  of  anarchy;  the  revolutionary  tribunal  had  been  estabhshed  i793 
in  Paris;  the  Committee  of  PubUc  Safety  had  usurped  the  supreme 
power ;  the  France  to  which  he  had  intrusted  the  fortunes  of  Corsica 
was  no  more.  Already  an  agent  was  in  communication  with  the  Eng- 
Ush  diplomats  in  Italy.  On  July  tenth  Salicetti  arrived  in  Paris;  on 
the  seventeenth  Paoh  was  declared  a  traitor  and  an  outlaw,  and  his 
friends  were  indicted  for  trial.  But  the  EngMsh  fleet  was  abeady  in 
the  Mediterranean,  and  although  the  British  protectorate  over  Corsica 
was  not  estabhshed  until  the  following  year,  in  the  intei-val  the  French 
and  their  few  remaining  sympathizers  on  the  island  were  able  at  best 
to  hold  only  the  three  towns  of  Bastia,  St.  Florent,  and  Calvi. 

After  the  last  fiasco  before  the  citadel  of  Ajaccio,  the  situation  of 
the  Buonapartes  was  momentarily  desperate.  Lucien  says  in  his 
memoirs  that  shortly  before  his  brother  had  spoken  longingly  of 
India,  of  the  Enghsh  empire  as  destined  to  spread  with  every  year, 
and  of  the  career  which  its  expansion  opened  to  good  officers  of  artil- 
lery, who  were  scarce  among  the  British — scarce  enough  everywhere, 
he  thought.  "  If  I  ever  choose  that  career,"  said  he,  "  I  hope  you  will 
hear  of  me.  In  a  few  years  I  shaU  retmTi  thence  a  rich  nabob,  and 
bring  fine  dowries  for  our  three  sisters."  But  the  scheme  was  defeiTed 
and  then  abandoned.  Sahcetti  had  arranged  for  his  own  retui'n  to 
Paris,  where  he  would  be  safe.  Napoleon  felt  that  flight  was  the  only 
resort  for  him  and  his.  Accordingly,  on  June  eleventh,  three  days  ear- 
Uer  than  his  patron,  he  and  Joseph,  accompanied  by  Fesch,  embarked 
with  their  mother  and  the  rest  of  the  family,  to  join  Lucien,  who 
had  remained  at  Toulon.  The  Jacobins  of  that  city  had  received  Lu- 
cien, as  a  Corsican  sympathizer,  with  honor.  Doubtless  his  family, 
homeless  and  destitute  for  theii-  devotion  to  the  republic,  would  find 
encouragement  and  help  until  some  favorable  turn  in  affairs  should 
restore  their  country  to  France,  and  reinstate  them  not  only  in  their 
old  possessions,  but  in  such  new  dignities  as  would  fitly  reward 
their  long  and  painful  devotion.  Such,  at  least,  appears  to  have 
been  Napoleon's  general  idea.  He  was  provided  with  a  legal  cer- 
tificate that  his  family  was  one  of  importance  and  the  richest  in  the 
department.  The  Convention  had  promised  compensation  to  those 
who  had  suffered  losses. 

As  had  been  hoped,  on  their  arrival  the  Buonapartes  were  treated 


124 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON   BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 


Chap.  XIV  witli  eveiy  mark  of  distinction,  and  ample  provision  was  made  for 
1793  their  comfort.  By  act  of  the  Convention,  women  and  old  men  in 
such  circumstances  received  seventy-five  livres  a  month,  infants  forty- 
five  livres.  Lads  received  simply  a  present  of  twenty-five  livres. 
With  the  preUminary  payment  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  livres,  which 
they  promptly  received,  the  Buonapartes  were  better  off  than  they  had 
been  at  home.  Lucien  had  appropriated  Napoleon's  certificate  of  birth 
in  order  to  appear  older  than  he  was,  and,  having  now  developed  into  a 
fluent  demagogue,  was  soon  earning  a  small  salary  in  the  commissary 
department  of  the  army.  Fesch  also  found  a  comfortable  berth  in  the 
same  department.  Joseph  calmly  displayed  Napoleon's  commission  in 
the  national  guard  as  his  own,  and  received  a  higher  place  with  a  bet- 
ter salary.  The  sovereignty  of  the  Convention  was  everywhere  acknow- 
ledged, their  revolutionary  coiu'ts  were  established  far  and  wide,  and 
their  legations,  clothed  with  dictatorial  power,  were  acknowledged  in 
every  camp  of  the  land  as  supreme,  superior  even  to  the  commanders- 
in-chief.  It  was  not  exactly  a  time  for  further  military  irregularities, 
and  Napoleon,  armed  with  a  certificate  from  SaHcetti  that  his  presence 
in  Corsica  for  the  past  six  months  had  been  necessary,  betook  himself 
to  the  army  headquarters  at  Nice,  where  a  detachment  of  his  regiment 
was  stationed. 

When  he  arrived,  no  awkward  questions  were  asked  by  the  authori- 
ties. The  town  had  but  recently  been  captured,  men  were  needed  to 
hold  it,  and  the  Corsican  refugee  was  promptly  appointed  captain  of 
the  shore  battery.  To  casual  observers  he  appeared  perfectly  content 
in  this  subordinate  position.  He  still  cherished  the  hope,  it  seems, 
that  he  might  find  some  opportunity  to  lead  a  successful  expedition 
against  the  Httle  citadel  of  Ajaccio.  Such  a  scheme,  at  all  events,  oc- 
cupied him  intermittently  for  nearly  two  years,  or  until  it  was  ban- 
ished forever  by  visions  of  a  control  far  transcending  the  limits  of 
his  island  home. 

Not  that  the  outcast  Buonaparte  was  any  longer  exclusively  a  Cor- 
sican. It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  lot  more  pitiful  or  a  fate  more 
obdm-ate  than  his  so  far  had  been.  There  was  little  hereditary  moral- 
ity in  his  nature,  and  none  had  been  inculcated  by  training ;  he  had 
nothing  of  what  is  called  vital  piety,  nor  even  sincere  superstition.  A 
butt  and  an  outcast  at  a  French  school  imder  the  old  regime,  he  had 
imbibed  a  bitter  hatred  for  the  land  indehbly  associated  with  such 


^T.  23]  A  JACOBIN    HEJIRA  125 

haughty  privileges  for  the  rich  and  such  contemptuous  disdain  for  the  ceap.  xiv 
poor.  He  had  not  even  the  consolation  of  having  received  an  educa-  iTsa 
tion.  His  nature  revolted  at  the  rehgious  formahsm  of  priestcraft; 
his  mind  tm'ued  in  disgust  from  the  scholastic  husks  of  its  superficial 
knowledge.  What  he  had  learned  came  from  inborn  capacity,  from 
desultory  reading,  and  from  the  untutored  imaginings  of  his  garden 
at  Brienne,  his  cave  at  Ajaccio,  or  his  barrack  chambers.  What  more 
plausible  than  that  he  should  flj.'st  turn  to  the  land  of  his  bh-th  with 
some  hope  of  happiness,  usefulness,  or  even  glory !  What  more  morti- 
fying than  the  revelation  that  in  manhood  he  was  too  French  for 
Corsica,  as  in  boyhood  he  had  been  too  Corsican  for  France  ! 

The  story  of  his  reception  and  adventures  in  Corsica  has  no  fascina- 
tion ;  it  is  neither  heroic  nor  satanic,  but  belongs  to  the  dull  and  me- 
diocre reaUsm  which  makes  up  so  much  of  commonplace  life.  It  is 
difficult  to  find  even  a  thread  of  continuity  in  it :  there  may  be  one  as 
to  purpose ;  there  is  none  as  to  either  conduct  or  theory.  There  is  the 
passionate  admiration  of  a  southern  nature  for  a  hero  as  represented 
by  the  ideal  Paoh.  There  is  the  equally  southern  quality  of  quick  but 
transient  hatred.  The  love  of  dramatic  effect  is  showu  at  every  tuna, 
in  the  perf  ervid  style  of  his  vn:itings,  in  the  mock  dignity  of  an  edict 
issued  from  the  grotto  at  MiUeh,  in  the  empty  honors  of  a  heutenant- 
colonel  without  a  real  command,  in  the  paltiy  style  of  an  artilleiy 
inspector  with  no  artillery  but  a  few  dismantled  guns. 

But  the  most  prominent  characteristic  of  the  young  man  was  his 
shiftiness,  in  both  the  good  and  bad  senses  of  the  word.  He  would 
perish  with  mortification  rather  than  fail  in  devising  some  expedient 
to  meet  every  emergency ;  he  felt  no  hesitation  in  changing  his  point 
of  view  as  experience  destroyed  an  ideal  or  an  unforeseen  chance  was 
to  be  seized  and  improved.  Moreover,  repeated  failui'e  did  not  dis- 
hearten him.  Detesting  garrison  life,  he  neglected  its  duties,  and  en- 
dured punishment,  but  he  secured  regular  promotion;  defeated  again 
and  again  before  the  citadel  of  Ajaccio,  each  time  he  returned  undis- 
mayed to  make  a  fresh  trial  under  new  auspices  or  in  a  new  way. 

He  was  no  spendthrift,  but  he  had  no  scruples  about  money.  He 
was  proud  in  the  headship  of  his  family,  and  reckless  as  to  how  he 
should  support  them,  or  should  secure  their  promotion.  Solitary  ia  his 
boyhood,  he  had  become  in  his  youth  a  companion  and  leader ;  but  his 
true  friendships  were  not  with  his  social  equals,  whom  he  despised,  but 


12Q  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23 

Chap,  xiv  with  tlic  lowly,  wliom  he  understood.  Finally,  here  was  a  citizen  of 
1793  the  world,  a  man  without  a  country ;  his  bii'thright  was  gone,  for  Cor- 
sica repelled  him;  Prance  he  hated,  for  she  had  never  adopted  him. 
He  was  almost  without  a  profession,  for  he  had  neglected  that  of  a 
soldier,  and  had  failed  both  as  an  author  and  as  a  poHtician.  He  was 
apparently,  too,  without  a  single  guidipg  principle ;  the  world  had  been 
a  harsh  stepmother,  at  whose  knee  he  had  neither  learned  the  truth 
nor  experienced  kindness.  He  appears  consistent  in  nothing  but  in 
making  the  best  of  events  as  they  occurred.  So  far  he  was  a  man 
neither  much  better  nor  much  worse  than  the  world  in  which  he  was 
born.  He  was  quite  as  unscrupulous  as  those  about  him,  but  he  was 
far  greater  than  they  in  perspicacity,  adroitness,  adaptabiUty,  and  per- 
sistence. During  the  period  before  his  expulsion  from  Corsica  these 
quahties  of  leadership  were  scarcely  recognizable,  but  they  existed.  As 
yet,  to  all  outward  appearance,  the  httle  captain  of  artillery  was  the 
same  shm,  ill-proportioned,  and  rather  iusignificant  youth;  but  at 
twenty-three  he  had  had  the  experience  of  a  much  greater  age.  Uncon- 
scious of  his  powers,  he  had  dreamed  many  day-dreams,  and  had 
acquired  a  habit  of  boastful  conversation  in  the  family  circle ;  but, 
fully  cognizant  of  the  dangers  incident  to  his  place,  and  the  unsettled 
conditions  about  him,  he  was  cautious  and  reserved  ia  the  outside 
world. 


CHAPTER  XV 


"the  suppeb  of  beaucaiee" 


Revolutionaey  Madness  —  Uprising  of  the  Girondists  —  Contention 
Forces  Before  Avignon  —  Bonaparte's  First  Success  in  Arms 
—  Its  Effect  Upon  his  Career  —  His  Political  Pamphlet  —  The 
Genius  it  Displays  —  Accepted  and  Published  by  Authority  — 
Seizure  of  Toulon  by  the  Allies. 

IT  was  a  tempestuous  time  in  Provence  when  tlie  Buonapartes  ar-  chap.  xv 
rived  at  Toulon.  Their  movements  during  the  first  few  months  1793 
cannot  be  determined;  we  only  know  that,  after  a  short  residence  there, 
the  family  fled  to  Marseilles.  Much,  too,  is  obscure  in  regard  even  to 
Napoleon,  soldier  as  he  was.  It  seems  as  if  this  period  of  then"  history 
had  been  wilfully  confused  to  conceal  how  intimate  their  connections 
with  the  Jacobins  were.  But  the  obscurity  may  also  be  due  to  the 
character  of  the  times.  Fleeing  before  the  storms  of  Corsican  revolu- 
tion, they  were  caught  in  the  whirlwind  of  French  anarchy.  The  Gi- 
rondists, after  involving  the  country  in  a  desperate  foreign  warfare,  had 
shown  themselves  incompetent  to  carry  it  on.  They  had,  therefore,  to 
give  way  before  the  Jacobins,  who,  by  the  exercise  of  a  reckless  despo- 
tism, were  able  to  display  an  unparalleled  energy  in  its  prosecution. 
Against  their  tyranny  the  moderate  repubhcans  and  the  royahsts 
outside  of  Paris  now  made  common  cause,  and  civil  war  broke  out  in 
many  places,  including  Vendee,  the  Rhone  valley,  and  the  southeast  of 
Prance.  Montesquieu  declares  that  honor  is  the  di stinguishing  character- 
istic of  aristocracy :  the  emigrant  aristocrats  had  been  the  first  in  France 
to  throw  honor  and  patriotism  to  the  winds ;  many  of  their  class  who 
remained  went  further,  displaying  in  Vendee  and  elsewhere  a  Sa- 
tanic vindictiveness.  This  shameful  poHcy  colored  the  entu*e  civil  war, 
and  the  bitterness  in  attack  and  retahation  that  was  shown  in  Mar- 

127 


-1^28  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23-24 

Chap.  XV  seilles,  Lyons,  Toulon,  and  elsewhere  woiild  have  disgraced  savages  in 
1793       a  prehistoric  age. 

The  westward  slopes  of  the  Alps  were  occupied  by  an  army  desig- 
nated by  that  name,  under  the  command  of  KeUermann ;  farther  south 
and  east  lay  the  Ai'my  of  Italy,  imder  Brunet.  Both  these  armies  were 
expected  to  di'aw  their  supphes  fi-om  the  fertile  country  behind  them, 
and  to  cooperate  against  the  troops  of  Savoy  and  Austria,  who  had  oc- 
cupied the  passes  of  lower  Piedmont,  and  blocked  the  way  into  Lom- 
bardy.  By  this  time  the  law  for  compulsory  enhstment  had  been  en- 
acted, but  the  general  excitement  and  topsyturvy  management  incident 
to  such  rapid  changes  in  government  and  society,  having  caused  the 
failure  of  the  Sardinian  expedition,  had  also  prevented  recruiting  or 
equipment  in  either  of  these  two  divisions  of  the  army.  The  outbreak 
of  open  hostilities  in  aU  the  lands  immediately  to  the  westward  momen- 
tarily paralyzed  their  operations ;  and  when,  shortly  afterward,  the  Gi- 
rondists overpowered  the  Jacobins  in  Marseilles,  the  defection  of  that 
city  made  it  difficult  for  the  so-called  regulars,  the  soldiers  of  the  Con- 
vention, even  to  obtain  subsistence  and  hold  the  territory  they  already 
occupied. 

The  next  move  of  the  insurgent  Girondists  of  Marseilles  was  in  the 
direction  of  Paris,  and  by  the  first  week  of  July  they  had  reached  Avi- 
gnon on  their  way  to  join  forces  with  their  equally  successful  friends  at 
Lyons.  With  characteristic  zeal,  the  Convention  had  created  an  army 
to  meet  them.  The  new  force  was  put  under  the  command  of  Carteaux, 
a  civihan,  but  a  man  of  energy.  According  to  directions  received  from 
Paris,  he  quickly  advanced  to  cut  the  enemy  in  two  by  occupying  the 
strategic  point  of  Valence.  This  move  was  successfully  made,  Lyons 
was  left  to  fight  its  own  battle,  and  by  the  middle  of  July  the  general 
of  the  Convention  was  encamped  before  the  walls  of  Avignon. 

A  few  days  later.  Napoleon  Buonaparte  entered  the  camp,  having 
arrived  by  devious  ways,  and  after  narrow  escapes  from  the  enemy's 
hands.  This  time  he  was  absent  from  his  post  on  duty.  The  works 
and  guns  at  Nice  being  inadequate  and  worthless,  he  had  been  sent  to 
secure  supplies  from  the  stores  of  Avignon  when  it  should  be  conquered. 
Such  were  the  straits  of  the  needy  repubhcan  general  at  Avignon  that 
he  immediately  appointed  his  visitor  to  the  command  of  a  strong  body 
of  flying  artillery.  In  the  first  subsequent  move  of  the  campaign  Car- 
teaux received  a  check.     But  the  insurgents  were  more  and  more  dis- 


V!  ? 


H 

X 
m 

n 
o 

z 

m 
O 

•D 
X 

o 

r 

> 
z 

D 


i 


s 


^T.  23-24]  "THE    SUPPER    OF    BEAUCAIRE"  129 

mayed  by  the  menacing  attitude  of  the  suiTounding  population,  and  on  chap.  rv 
the  twenty-fifth,  in  the  very  horn-  of  victory,  began  their  retreat.  The  nus 
road  to  Marseilles  was  thus  clear,  and  the  commander  unwisely  opened 
his  lines  to  occupy  the  evacuated  towns  on  his  front.  Buonaparte, 
whose  battery  did  excellent  service,  advanced  with  the  main  aimy,  but 
was  ordered  back  to  protect  the  rear  by  reorganizing  and  reconstructing 
the  artillery  park  which  had  been  dismantled  in  the  assault. 

This  first  successful  feat  of  arms  made  a  profound  impression  on 
Buonaparte's  mind,  and  led  to  the  decision  which  settled  his  career. 
His  spirits  were  still  low,  for  he  was  suffering  from  a  retui-n  of  his  old 
malarial  trouble.  Moreover,  his  family  had  ah'eady  been  driven  from 
Toulon  by  the  uprising  of  the  hostile  party,  and  were  now  dependent  on 
charity ;  the  Corsican  revolt  against  the  Convention  was  vii-tually  suc- 
cessful, and  it  was  said  that  in  the  island  the  name  of  Buonaparte  was 
considered  as  httle  less  execrable  than  that  of  Buttafuoco.  What  must 
he  do  to  get  a  decisive  share  in  the  surging,  rolling  tumult  about  him  ? 
The  visionary  boy  was  transformed  into  the  practical  man.  Frenchmen 
were  fighting,  and  winning  glory  everywhere,  and  among  the  men  who 
were  reaping  laurels  were  some  whom  he  had  known  and  even  despised 
at  Brienne — Sergeant  Pichegru,  for  instance.  Ideas  which  he  had  mo- 
mentarily entertained, —  enhstment  m  the  Russian  anny,^  service  with 
England,  a  career  in  the  Indies,  the  return  of  the  nabob, —  all  such  vi- 
sions were  set  aside  forever,  and  an  apphcation  was  sent  for  a  transfer 
from  the  Army  of  Italy  to  that  of  the  Rhine.  The  suppression  of  the 
southern  revolt  would  soon  be  accomphshed,  and  inactivity  ensue ;  but 
on  the  fi-ontier  of  the  north  there  was  a  warfare  worthy  of  his  powers, 
in  which,  if  he  could  only  attract  the  attention  of  the  authorities,  long 
service,  rapid  advancement,  and  lasting  glory  might  aU  be  secured. 

But  what  must  be  the  first  step  to  secure  notoriety  here  and  now  I 
How  could  that  end  be  gained  I  The  old  instinct  of  authorship  re- 
turned irresistibly,  and  in  the  long  intervals  of  easy  duty  at  Avignon, 
where  he  remained  to  complete  the  task  assigned  to  him,  Buonaparte 
wrote  the  "  Supper  of  Beaucaire,"  his  first  hteraiy  work  of  real  abihty. 
As  if  by  magic  his  style  is  utterly  changed,  being  now  concise,  con-ect, 
and  lucid.     The  opinions  expressed  are  quite  as  thoroughly  transfoi-med, 

1  The  "Archive  Russe"  for  1866  states  that  in  1788  with  a  Russian  fleet  in  the  Mediterranean.     The 

Napoleon  Buonaparte  applied  for  an  engagement  to  statement  may  be  true,  and  probably  is,  but  there 

Zaborowski,  Potemkin's  lieutenant,  who  was  then  is  no  corroborative  evidence  to  sustain  it. 
18 


130 


LIFE   OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  23-24 


Chap.  XV  and  display  not  only  a  clear  political  judgment,  but  an  almost  startling 
1793  military  insight.  The  setting  of  this  notable  repast  is  based  on  an  ac- 
tual experience,  and  is  as  follows :  Five  wayfarers  —  a  native  of  Nimes, 
a  manufacturer  from  Montpellier,  two  merchants  of  Marseilles,  and  a 
soldier  fi-om  Aviguon — find  themselves  accidentally  thrown  together  as 
table  companions  at  an  inn  of  Beaucaire,  a  httle  city  round  about  which 
the  ciAril  war  is  raging.  The  conversation  at  supper  turns  on  the 
events  occurring  in  the  neighborhood.  The  soldier  explains  the  cir- 
ciunstances  connected  with  the  recent  capture  of  Avignon,  attributing 
the  flight  of  the  insiu^gents  to  the  inability  of  any  except  veteran  troops 
to  endure  the  uncertainties  of  a  siege.  One  of  the  travelers  from  Mar- 
seilles thinks  the  success  but  temporary,  and  recapitidates  the  resources 
of  the  moderates.  The  soldier  retorts  in  a  long  refutation  of  that  opin- 
ion. As  a  politician  he  shows  how  the  insurgents  have  placed  them- 
selves in  a  false  position  by  adopting  extreme  measures  and  alienating 
repubhcan  sympathy;  as  a  mihtaryman  he  explains  the  strategic  weak- 
ness of  then*  position,  and  the  futihty  of  their  operations,  uttering  many 
sententious  phrases :  "  Self-conceit  is  the  worst  adviser  " ;  "  Good  four- 
and  eight-pound  cannon  are  as  effective  for  field  work  as  pieces  of  larger 
cahber,  and  are  in  many  respects  preferable  to  them" ;  " It  is  an  axiom 
of  mihtary  science  that  the  army  which  remains  behind  its  intrench- 
ments  is  beaten :  experience  and  theory  agree  on  this  point." 

The  conclusion  of  the  conversation  is  a  triumphant  demonstration 
that  the  cause  of  the  insurgents  is  already  lost,  an  argument  convicting 
them  of  really  desiring  not  moderation,  but  a  counter-revolution  in  their 
own  interest,  and  of  displaying  a  wilhngness  to  imitate  the  Vendeans, 
and  call  in  foreign  aid  if  necessary.  In  one  remarkable  passage  the  sol- 
dier grants  that  the  Girondists  may  have  been  outlawed,  imprisoned, 
and  calumniated  by  the  Mountain  in  its  own  selfish  interest,  but  adds 
that  the  former  "  were  lost  without  a  civil  war  by  means  of  which  they 
could  lay  down  the  law  to  their  enemies.  It  was  for  them  your  war 
was  reaUy  useful.  Had  they  merited  their  early  reputation  they  would 
have  thrown  down  their  arms  before  the  constitution  and  sacrificed 
their  own  interests  to  the  pubhc  weKare.  It  is  easier  to  cite  Decius 
than  to  imitate  him.  To-day  they  have  shown  themselves  guilty  of  the 
worst  possible  crimes ;  have,  by  their  behavior,  justified  their  proscrip- 
tion. The  blood  they  have  caused  to  flow  has  effaced  the  true  services 
they  had  rendered."      The  MontpeUier  mauufactm-er  is   of  opinion 


^T.  23-24]  "THE    SUPPER    OF    BEAUCAIRE"  *  131 

that,  whether  this  be  true  or  no,  the  Convention  now  represents  the    Chap,  xv 
nation,  and  to  refuse  obedience  to  it  is  rebellion  and  counter-revolu-        1793 
tion.     History  knows  no  plainer  statement  that  "  might  makes  right " 
than  this. 

At  last,  then,  the  leader  had  shown  himself  in  seizing  the  salient 
elements  of  a  complicated  situation,  and  the  man  of  affau's  had  found  a 
style  in  which  to  express  his  clear-cut  ideas.  When  the  tide  tm-ns  it 
rises  without  interruption.  Buonaparte's  pamphlet  was  scarcely  wiitten 
before  its  value  was  discerned;  for  at  that  moment  aiTived  one  of  those 
legations  now  representing  the  sovereignty  of  the  Convention  in  every 
field  of  operations.  This  one  was  a  most  influential  committee  of  three 
— Escudier,  Ricord,  and  the  yoimger  brother  of  RobespieiTe.  Accom- 
panying them  was  a  commission  charged  to  renew  the  commissary 
stores  in  Corsica  for  the  few  troops  still  holding  out  in  that  island. 
Sahcetti  was  at  its  head;  the  other  member  was  Gaspariu.  Buona- 
parte, of  course,  found  easy  access  to  the  favor  of  his  compatriot  Sah- 
cetti, and  "  The  Supper  of  Beaucaire "  was  heard  by  the  plenipoten- 
tiaries with  attention.  Its  merit  was  immediately  recognized  both  by 
Gasparin  and  by  the  younger  Robespierre ;  iu  a  few  days  the  pamphlet 
was  pubhshed  at  the  expense  of  the  state. 

In  the  interval,  while  Buonaparte  remained  at  Avignon,  secui'ing 
artillery  supphes  and  writing  a  pohtical  pamphlet  in  support  of  the 
Jacobins,  Carteaux  had,  on  August  twenty-fifth,  1793,  taken  Marseilles. 
The  capture  was  celebrated  by  one  of  the  bloodiest  orgies  of  that  horri- 
ble year.  The  Girondists  of  Toulon  saw  in  the  fate  of  those  at  Mar- 
seilles the  lot  apportioned  to  themselves.  If  the  high  contractiug 
powers  now  banded  against  France  had  shown  a  sincere  desire  to  queU 
Jacobin  bestiahty,  they  could  on  the  first  formation  of  the  coalition 
easily  have  seized  Paris.  Instead,  Austria  and  Pi-ussia  had  shown  the 
most  selfish  apathy  in  that  respect,  huckstering  with  each  other  and 
with  Russia  for  their  respective  shares  of  Poland,  the  booty  they  were 
about  to  seize.  The  intensity  of  the  Jacobin  movement  did  not  rouse 
them  until  the  majority  of  the  French  people,  vaguely  grasping  the  ele- 
ments of  permanent  value  in  the  Revolution,  and  slung  by  foreign  in- 
terference, ralHed  around  the  only  standard  which  was  firmly  upheld, — 
that  of  the  Convention, — and  enabled  that  body  within  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time  to  put  forth  tremendous  energy.  Then  England, 
terrified  into  panic,  drove  Pitt  to  take  effective  measm-es,  and  displayed 


132 


LIFE   OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [-SIt.  23-24 


Chap.  XV  her  resouTces  in  raising  subsidies  for  her  Continental  allies,  in  goading 
1793  the  German  powers  to  activity,  in  scouring  every  sea  with  her  fleets. 
One  of  these  was  cruising  off  the  French  coast  in  the  Mediterranean, 
and  it  was  easy  for  the  Gnondists  of  Toulon  to  induce  its  commander  to 
seize  not  only  their  splendid'  arsenals,  but  the  fleet  in  their  harbor  as 
■^eU — the  only  effective  one,  in  fact,  which  at  that  time  the  French 
possessed.  Without  delay  or  hesitation,  Hood,  the  Enghsh  admu-al, 
grasped  the  easy  prize,  and  before  long  war-ships  of  the  Spaniards, 
Neapohtans,  and  Sardinians  were  gathered  to  share  in  the  defense  of 
the  town  against  the  Convention  forces.  Soon  the  Girondist  fugitives 
from  Marseilles  arrived,  and  were  received  with  kindness.  The  place 
was  provisioned,  the  gates  were  shut,  and  every  preparation  for  desper- 
ate resistance  was  completed. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

TOULON 

The  Jacobin  Power  Theeatened  —  Bonaparte's  Fate  —  His  Ap- 
pointment AT  Toulon  —  His  Ability  as  an  Artillerist  —  His 
Name  Mentioned  with  Distinction — His  Plan  of  Operations  — 
The  Fall  of  Toulon — Bonaparte  a  General  of  Brigade  —  Be- 
havior OF  THE  Jacobin  Victors  —  A  Corsican  Plot  —  Horrors 
OF  THE  French  Revolution. 

COUPLED  as  it  was  with  other  discouraging  circumstances,  the  chap,  xvi 
"  treason  of  Toulon  "  struck  a  staggering  blow  at  the  Convention.  1793 
The  siege  of  Lyons  was  still  in  progress ;  the  Piedmontese  were  enter- 
ing Savoy,  or  the  department  of  Mont  Blanc,  as  it  had  been  designated 
after  its  recent  captiu*e  by  France;  the  great  city  of  Bordeaux  was 
ominously  silent  and  inactive ;  the  royahsts  of  Vendee  were  temporarily 
victorious ;  there  was  unrest  in  Normandy,  and  further  violence  in  Brit- 
tany; the  towns  of  Mainz,  Valenciennes,  and  Conde  had  been  evacuated, 
and  Dunkirk  was  besieged  by  the  Duke  of  York.  The  loss  of  Toulon 
would  put  a  climax  to  such  disasters,  destroy  the  credit  of  the  repubhc 
abroad  and  at  home,  perhaps  bring  back  the  Bourbons.  Camot  had  in 
the  mean  time  come  to  the  assistance  of  the  Committee  of  Safety. 
Great  as  a  military  organizer  and  influential  as  a  pohtician,  he  had 
already  awakened  the  whole  land  to  a  stiU  higher  fei'vor,  and  had  con- 
sohdated  public  sentiment  in  favor  of  his  plans.  In  Dubois  de  Craned 
he  had  an  able  lieutenant.  Fourteen  armies  were  soon  to  move  and 
fight,  directed  by  a  single  mind ;  discipline  was  about  to  be  effectively 
strengthened  because  it  was  to  be  the  discipline  of  the  people  by  itself ; 
the  envoys  of  the  Convention  were  to  go  to  and  fro,  successfully  labor- 
ing for  common  action  and  common  enthusiasm  in  the  executive,  in 
both  the  fighting  services,  and  in  the  nation.    But  as  yet  none  of  these 

133 


234  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  24 

Chap.  XVI  miracles  had  been  wrouglit,  and,  with  Toulon  lost,  they  might  be 
1793       forever  impossible. 

For  a  few  days  after  the  pubhcation  of  his  Httle  book  Buonaparte 
had  a  relapse  into  his  queer,  restless,  wandering  ways.  He  may  have 
been  on  some  secret  confidential  mission,  as  has  been  sometimes  hinted, 
but  nothing  appears  to  show  it.  Dming  August  and  early  September 
he  is  said  to  have  been  at  Valence,  at  Lyons,  at  Auxonne,  and  at  Paris. 
He  had  evidently  been  thwarted  in  his  plan  of  securing  a  position  in 
the  Ai'my  of  the  Rhine,  or  even  of  obtaining  promotion  in  the  one  to 
which  he  already  belonged.  When  finally  he  started  to  join  the  Army 
of  Italy,  somewhere  on  the  road  his  destiny  overtook  him.  According 
to  the  most  probable  account  he  was  at  Marseilles,  where  he  had  halted 
to  visit  his  mother  and  sisters.  There  a  compatriot,  Cervoni,  found 
him,  and  suggested  that  he  should  go  to  Toulon,  whither  the  army  of 
Carteaux  had  been  ordered.  With  apparent  hesitancy,  and  only  after 
much  persuasion,  the  disappointed  suppliant  consented  to  serve  with 
his  new-found  friends  for  the  siege.  It  was  probably  the  twelfth  of 
September  when  he  arrived  at  the  post  where  he  was  to  lay  the  first 
sohd  foundation  of  his  future  renown. 

The  city  of  Toulon  was  now  formally  and  nominally  invested — that 
is,  according  to  the  then  accepted  general  rules  for  such  operations, 
but  with  no  regard  to  those  pecuharities  of  its  site  which  only  master 
minds  could  mark  and  use  to  the  best  advantage.  The  large  double 
bay  is  protected  from  the  southwest  by  a  broad  peninsula  joined  to  the 
mainland  by  a  very  narrow  isthmus,  and  thus  opens  southeastward  to 
the  Mediterranean.  The  great  fortified  city  hes  far  within  on  the  east- 
em  shore  of  the  inner  harbor.  It  is  protected  on  the  landward  side  by 
an  amphitheater  of  high  hiUs,  which  leave  to  the  right  and  left  a  nar- 
row strip  of  rolling  country  between  their  lower  slopes  and  the  sea. 
The  westward  pass  is  commanded  by  OUioules,  which  Carteaux  had 
selected  for  his  headquarters.  On  August  twenty-ninth  his  vanguard 
seized  the  place,  but  they  were  almost  immediately  attacked  and  driven 
out  by  the  allied  armies,  chiefly  Enghsh  troops  brought  in  from  Gibral- 
tar. On  September  seventh  the  place  was  retaken.  In  the  assault 
only  a  single  French  officer  fell  mortally  wounded,  but  that  one  was  a 
captain  of  artillery.  Sahcetti  and  his  colleagues  had  received  from  the 
Minister  of  War  a  charge  to  look  out  for  the  citizen  Buonaparte  who 
wanted  service  on  the  Rhine.     This  and  their  own  attachment  deter- 


lI'Ul.UA^tltK  HOi;;sOlt.    \.MAr.O.\   »t  CO,   PAIlI>. 


BONAPARTE 


i    EXPLAINING    HIS    PL.VN    FOR    Till.    TAKINH^,    OF    TOri.OX.     ly.)^. 

IROM  THE  1'A1.NT1SG   UV  ASDllt  CASIAIUNE. 


^T.  34]  TOULON  .  135 

mined  them  in  the  pregnant  step  they  now  took.  The  visiting  captain  cuap.  x\t 
was  appointed  to  the  vacant  place.  At  the  same  time  his  mother  re-  itw 
ceived  a  gi-ant  of  money.  Fesch  and  Lucien  were  made  storekeepers 
in  the  commissary  department.  Barras,  who  was  the  recruiting-officer 
of  the  Convention  at  Toulon,  claims  to  have  been  the  first  to  recognize 
Buonaparte's  abihty.  He  declares  that  the  young  Corsican  was  daily 
at  his  table,  and  that  it  was  he  himself  who  m-egularly  but  efficiently 
secured  the  appointment  of  his  new  friend  to  active  duty.  But  he  also 
asserts  what  we  know  to  be  luitrae,  that  Buonaparte  was  still  heiitenant 
when  they  first  met,  and  that  he  created  him  captain.  It  is  likely,  in 
view  of  their  subsequent  intimacy  at  Paris,  that  they  were  also  intimate 
at  Toulon,  but  the  rest  of  BaiTas's  story  is  a  fabrication. 

It  was  with  no  trembhng  hand  that  Buonaparte  laid  hold  of  his 
task.  For  an  efficient  artillery  service  artillery  officers  were  essential, 
and  there  were  almost  none.  In  the  ebb  and  flow  of  popular  enthu- 
siasm many  repubhcans  who  had  fallen  back  before  the  storms  of  fac- 
tional excesses  wer'S  now  wiUing  to  come  forward,  and  Napoleon,  not 
pubhcly  committed  to  the  Jacobins,  was  able  to  win  many  capable 
assistants  fi'om  among  men  of  this  class.  His  nervous  restlessness 
found  an  outlet  in  erecting  buttresses,  mounting  guns,  and  invigorat- 
ing the  whole  service  until  a  zealous  activity  of  the  most  i^romising 
kind  was  displayed  by  officers  and  men  ahke.  The  only  check  was  in 
the  ignorant  meddhng  of  Carteaux,  who,  though  energetic  and  zealous, 
was,  after  all,  not  a  soldier,  but  a  painter.  Strange  characters  rose  to 
the  top  in  those  troublous  times  :  the  painter's  opponent  at  Avignon, 
the  leader  of  the  insurgents,  had  been  a  taUor.  Buonaparte's  ready  pen 
stood  him  again  in  good  stead,  and  he  sent  up  a  memorial  to  the  minis- 
try, explaining  the  situation,  and  asking  for  the  appointment  of  an 
artillery  general  with  full  powers.  The  commissioners  transmitted  the 
paper  to  Paris,  and  appointed  the  memoriaUst  to  the  higher  rank  of 
acting  commander ;  but  his  fmther  activity  was  checked  by  lack  of 
material. 

At  length  the  artist  was  removed  from  command,  and  a  physician 
was  appointed  in  his  stead.  The  doctor  was  an  ardent  patriot  who  had 
distinguished  himself  at  the  siege  of  Lyons,  which  had  fallen  on  Octo- 
ber ninth.  But  on  arriving  at  Toulon  the  citizen  soldier  was  awed  by 
the  magnitude  of  his  new  work,  and  was  transfen-ed  at  his  own  sug- 
gestion to  an  easier  station  in  the  Pyrenees.      Dugommier,  a  profes- 


136 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [.Et.  24 


Chap.  XVI  sional  soldier,  was  finally  appointed  commander-in-chief,  and  Duteil, 
1793  a  brother  of  Buonaparte's  old  fi'iend  and  commander,  was  made  general 
of  artillery.  Ahxmdant  supphes  an-ived  at  the  same  time  from  Lyons. 
On  November  twentieth  the  new  officers  took  charge,  two  days  later  a 
general  reconnaissance  was  made,  and  within  a  short  time  the  invest- 
ment was  completed.  On  the  thirtieth  there  was  a  sally  from  the 
town  directed  against  Buonaparte's  batteries.  It  was  successfully  re- 
pulsed. The  event  was  made  unportant  by  the  captui-e  of  Greneral 
O'Hara,  the  Enghsh  commandant.  In  the  "Momteur"of  December 
seventh  the  name  of  Buona  Parte  is  mentioned  for  the  first  time,  and 
as  among  the  most  distinguished  in  the  action. 

The  councils  of  war  before  Dugommier's  arrival  had  been  numerous 
and  turbulent,  although  the  solitary  plan  of  operations  suggested  would 
have  been  adequate  only  for  capturing  an  inland  town,  and  probably  not 
even  for  that.  From  the  beginning  Buonaparte  had  explained  to  his  col- 
leagues the  special  featm'es  of  their  task,  but  all  in  vain.  He  reasoned 
that  Toulon  depended  for  its  resisting  power  on  ^he  Alhes  and  their 
fleets,  and  must  be  reduced  from  the  side  next  the  sea.  The  Enghsh 
themselves  understood  this  when  they  ileized  and  fortified  the  redoubt 
of  Fort  Mulgrave,  known  also  as  Little  Gibraltar,  on  the  tongue  of  land 
separating,  to  the  westward,  the  inner  from  the  outer  bay.  That  post 
must  be  taken.  From  the  very  moment  of  his  arrival  this  simple  but 
clever  conception  was  urged  on  the  new  artillery  general,  and,  with 
others  from  the  same  author,  was  adopted.  At  the  same  time  it 
was  determined  that  operations  should  also  be  directed  against  two 
other  strong  outposts,  one  to  the  north,  the  other  to  the  northeast, 
of  the  town. 

Finally,  on  December  seventeenth,  after  careful  preparation,  a  con- 
certed attack  was  made  at  all  three  points.  It  was  successful  in  every 
part ;  the  enemy  was  not  only  driven  within  the  interior  works,  but  by 
the  fall  of  Little  Gibraltar  his  communication  with  the  sea  was  en- 
dangered. Since,  therefore,  the  supporting  fleets  coidd  no  longer  re- 
main in  a  situation  so  precarious,  the  besieged  at  once  made  ready  for 
departm-e,  embarking  the  troops  and  many  of  the  inhabitants.  In  a 
few  days  the  city  was  evacuated,  and  the  foreign  war  vessels  sailed 
away.  The  news  of  this  decisive  victory  was  despatched  without  a 
moment's  delay  to  the  Convention.  The  names  of  Salicetti,  Robes- 
pierre, Ricord,  Freron,  and  Barras  are  mentioned  in  Dugommier's  let- 


O 

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^T.24]  TOULON  137 

ters  as  those  of  men  who  had  won  distinction  in  various  posts ;  that  of   Chap.  xvi 
Buonaparte  does  not  occui-.  1793 

There  was  either  jealousy  of  his  merits,  which  are  declared  hj^  his 
enemies  to  have  been  unduly  vaunted,  or  else  his  share  had  been  more 
insignificant  than  is  generally  supposed.  He  related  at  St.  Helena  that 
during  the  operations  before  Toulon  he  had  had  three  horses  killed 
under  him,  and  showed  Las  Cases  a  great  scar  on  his  thigh  which  he 
said  had  been  received  in  a  bayonet  charge  at  Toulon.  "Men  won- 
dered at  the  fortune  which  kept  me  invulnerable ;  I  always  concealed 
my  dangers  in  mystery."  The  hypothesis  of  his  insignificance  appears 
unlikely  when  we  examine  the  memoirs  written  by  his  contemporaries, 
and  consider  the  precise  traditions  of  a  later  generation;  it  becomes 
untenable  in  view  of  what  happened  on  the  next  day,  when  the  com- 
missioners nominated  him  for  the  office  of  general  of  brigade,  a  rank 
which  in  the  exchange  of  prisoners  with  the  Enghsh  was  reckoned  as 
equal  to  that  of  Heutenant-general.  In  a  report  wi-itten  on  the  nine- 
teenth to  the  Minister  of  War,  Duteil  speaks  in  the  highest  terms  of 
Buonaparte.  "  A  great  deal  of  science,  as  much  intelligence,  and  too 
much  bravery;  such  is  a  faint  sketch  of  the  virtues  of  this  rare 
ofi&cer.  It  rests  with  you,  Minister,  to  retain  them  for  the  glory  of 
the  Repubhc." 

On  December  twenty-fourth  the  Convention  received  the  news  of 
victory.  It  was  really  their  reprieve,  for  news  of  disaster  would  have 
cut  short  their  career.  Jubilant  over  a  prompt  success,  their  joy  was 
savage  and  infernal.  With  the  eagerness  of  vamph-es  they  at  once  sent 
two  commissioners  to  wipe  the  name  of  Toulon  fi*om  the  map,  and  its 
inhabitants  from  the  earth.  Fouche,  later  chief  of  pohce  and  Duke  of 
Otranto  under  Napoleon,  went  down  from  Lyons  to  see  the  sport,  and 
wrote  to  his  friend  the  arch-mui'derer  Collet  d'Herbois  that  they  were 
celebrating  the  victory  in  but  one  way.  "  This  night  we  send  two  him- 
dred  and  thirteen  rebels  into  hell  fire."  The  fact  is,  no  one  ever  knew 
how  many  hundreds  or  thousands  of  the  Toulon  Girondists  were  swept 
together  and  destroyed  by  the  fire  of  cannon  and  musketry.  Freron, 
one  of  the  commissioners,  desired  to  leave  not  a  single  rebel  ahve. 
Dugommier  would  hsten  to  no  such  proposition  for  a  holocaust.  Mar- 
mont  declares  that  Buonaparte  and  his  artiUeiymen  pleaded  for  mercy, 
but  in  vain. 

Running  like  a  thread  through  aU  these  events  was  a  counter-plot. 

19 


138 


LIFE   OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  24 


Chap,  x^^  The  Corsicans  at  Toiilon  wei-e  persons  of  importance,  and  had  shown 
1793  theii-  mettle.  Sahcetti,  Buonaparte,  Ai-ena,  and  Cervoni  were  now  men 
of  mark ;  the  two  latter  had,  like  Buonaparte,  been  promoted,  though 
to  much  lower  rank.  As  Sahcetti  declared  in  a  letter  wiitten  on 
December  twenty-eighth,  they  were  scheming  to  secure  vessels  and 
arm  them  for  an  expedition  to  Corsica.  But  for  the  time  theii-  efforts 
came  to  naught ;  and  thenceforward  Sahcetti  seemed  to  lose  all  inter- 
est ia  Corsican  affairs,  becoming  more  and  more  involved  in  the  ever 
madder  rush  of  events  in  France. 

There  was  nothiug  strange  hi  this :  a  common  pohtician  could  not 
remain  insensible  to  the  course  or  the  consequences  of  the  mahgnant 
anarchy  now  raging  throughout  France.  The  massacres  at  Lyons, 
Marseilles,  and  Toulon  were  the  reply  to  the  horrors  of  like  or  worse 
natm*e  pei-petrated  in.  Vendee  by  the  royahsts.  Danton  having  used 
the  Paris  sections  to  overawe  the  Gu'ondist  majority  of  the  Conven- 
tion, Marat  gathered  his  riotous  band  of  sansculottes,  and  hounded  the 
discredited  remnant  of  the  party  to  death,  flight,  or  arrest.  His  bloody 
career  was  ended  only  by  Charlotte  Corday's  dagger.  Passions  were 
thus  inflamed  until  even  Danton's  conduct  appeared  cahn,  moderate, 
and  inefficient,  when  compared  with  the  reckless  bloodthirstiness  of  He- 
bert,  now  leader  of  the  Exageres.  The  latter  prevailed,  the  Vendeans 
were  defeated,  and  Citizen  Carrier  of  Nantes  in  three  months  took  fif- 
teen thousand  human  lives  by  his  fiendishly  ingenious  systems  of 
drowning  and  shooting.  In  short,  France  was  chaos,  and  the  Sah- 
cettis  of  the  tune  might  hope  for  anything,  or  fear  everything,  in  the 
throes  of  her  disorder.  Not  so  a  man  like  Buonaparte.  His  instinct 
led  him  to  stand  in  readiness  at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  Others 
might  choose  and  press  forward ;  he  gave  no  sign  of  being  moved  by 
cmTent  events,  but  stood  with  his  eye  still  fixed,  though  now  in  a  back- 
ward gaze,  on  Corsica,  ready,  if  interest  or  seK-preservation  requu'ed  it, 
for  another  effort  to  seize  and  hold  it  as  his  own.  Determined  and 
revengeful,  he  was  again,  through  the  confusion  in  France,  to  seciu-e 
means  for  his  enterprise,  and  this  time  on  a  scale  proportionate  to  the 
difficulty. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


A  JACOBIN   GENEEAL 


Tkansfokmation  in  Bonaparte's  Chaeactee  —  Coneiemed  as  a  Feench 
General — Conduct  of  his  Beothees — Napoleon's  Caution  —  His 
Repoet  on  Marseilles — The  New  Feench  Aemy — Bon.\paete 
THE  Jacobin  Leadee  —  Hostilities  with  Austeia  and  Saedinia 
—  Enthusiasm  of  the  Feench  Teoops — Bonapaete  in  Society — 
His  Plan  foe  an  Italian  Campaign. 

HITHERTO  prudence  had  not  been  characteristic  of  Buonaparte :  chap.  xvn 
his  escapades  and  disobedience  had  savored  rather  of  reckless-  179^-94 
ness.  The  whole  outlook  having  changed  since  his  final  flight  to 
France,  his  conduct  now  began  to  reveal  a  definite  plan — to  be  marked 
by  punctilious  obedience,  sometimes  even  by  an  almost  puerile  caution. 
His  family  was  homeless  and  penniless;  then'  only  hope  for  a  hvelj- 
hood  was  in  rising  with  the  Jacobins,  who  appeared  to  be  growing  more 
influential  every  hour.  Through  the  powerful  fiiends  that  Napoleon 
had  made  among  the  representatives  of  the  Convention,  men  like  the 
younger  RobespieiTe,  Freron,  and  Barras,  much  had  ah'eady  been 
gained.  If  his  nomination  to  the  office  of  general  of  brigade  were  con- 
firmed, as  it  was  almost  certain  to  be,  the  rest  would  follow,  since,  with 
his  innate  capacity  for  adapting  himself  to  cu'cumstances,  he  had  dur- 
ing the  last  few  weeks  successfully  cultivated  his  power  of  pleasing, 
captivating  the  hearts  of  Marmont,  Junot,  and  many  others. 

With  such  strong  chances  in  his  favor,  it  appeared  to  Buonaparte 
that  no  stumbhng-block  of  technicahty  should  be  thrown  in  the  path 
of  his  promotion.  Accordingly,  in  the  record  of  his  life  sent  up  to 
Paris,  he  puts  his  entrance  into  the  service  over  a  year  earUer  than  it 
actually  occurred,  omits  as  unessential  details  some  of  the  places  in 
which  he  had  Hved  and  some  of  the  companies  in  which  he  had  served, 

139 


140 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  24 


Chap.  XVII  declares  that  he  had  commanded  a  battahon  at  the  capture  of  Magda- 
179^-94  lena,  and,  finally,  denies  categorically  that  he  was  ever  noble.  *  To  this 
paper,  which  minimizes  nearly  to  the  vanishing-point  all  mention  of 
Corsica,  and  emphasizes  his  services  as  a  Frenchman  by  its  insidious 
omissions,  the  overdi-iven  officials  in  Paris  took  no  exception ;  and  on 
Febmary  sixth,  1794,  he  was  confirmed,  receiving  an  appointment  for 
service  in  the  new  and  regenerated  Ai-my  of  Italy,  which  had  replaced 
as  if  by  magic  the  ragged,  shoeless,  ill-equipped,  and  half -starved  rem- 
nants of  troops  in  and  about  Nice  that  in  the  previous  year  had  been 
dignified  by  the  same  title.  This  gambler  had  not  dravni  the  first  prize 
in  the  lottery,  but  what  he  had  secured  was  enough  to  justify  his 
coiu'se,  and  confirm  his  confidence  in  fate.  Eight  years  and  three 
months  nominally  in  the  service,  out  of  which  in  reahty  he  had  been 
absent  fom-  years  and  ten  months  either  on  fm-lough  or  without  one, 
and  already  a  general!  Neither  bhnd  luck,  nor  the  revolutionary 
epoch,  nor  the  superlative  ability  of  the  man,  but  a  compound  of  all 
these,  had  brought  this  marvel  to  pass.  It  did  not  intoxicate,  but  still 
further  sobered,  the  beneficiary.  This  effect  was  partly  due  to  an 
experience  which  demonstrated  that  strong  as  are  the  chains  of  habit, 
they  are  more  easily  broken  than  those  which  his  associates  forge 
about  a  man. 

In  the  interval  between  nomination  and  confii-mation  the  young  as- 
pirant, through  the  faidt  of  his  friends,  was  involved  in  a  most  serious 
risk.  Sahcetti,  and  the  Buonaparte  brothers,  Joseph,  Lucien,  and 
Louis,  went  vsdld  with  exultation  over  the  faU  of  Toulon,  and  began  by 
reckless  assumptions  and  untruthful  representations  to  reap  an  abun- 
dant harvest  of  spoils.  Joseph,  by  the  use  of  his  brother's  Corsican 
commission,  had  posed  as  a  lieutenant-colonel;  he  was  now  made  a 
commissary-general  of  the  first  class.  Louis,  without  regard  to  his 
extreme  youth,  was  promoted  to  be  adjutant-major  of  artillery  —  a  dig- 
nity which  was  short-hved,  for  he  was  soon  after  ordered  to  the  school 
at  Chalons  as  a  cadet,  but  which  served,  hke  the  greater  success  of  Jo- 
seph, to  tide  over  a  crisis.  Lucien  retained  his  post  as  keeper  of  the 
commissary  stores  in  St.  Maximin,  where  he  was  the  leading  Jacobin, 
styling  himself  Lucius  Brutus,  and  rejoicing  in  the  sobriquet  of  "  the 
httle  Robespierre." 

The  positions  of  Lucien  and  Louis  were  fantastic  even  for  revolu- 
tionary times.      Napoleon  was  fuUy  aware  of  the  danger,  and  was  cor- 


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Ml.  24]  A   JACOBIN    GENERAL  141 

respondingly  circumspect.  It  was  possibly  at  his  own  suggestion  that  CHAr.  xvn 
he  was  appointed,  on  December  twenty-sixth,  1793,  inspector  of  the  1793^94 
shore  foi-tiflcations,  and  ordered  to  proceed  immechately  on  an  inspec- 
tion of  the  Mediterranean  coast  as  far  as  Meutone.  The  expedition  re- 
moved him  fi-om  all  temptation  to  an  imfortunate  display  of  exultation 
or  anxiety,  and  gave  him  a  new  chance  to  display  his  powers.  He  per- 
formed his  task  with  the  thoroughness  of  an  expert ;  but  in  so  doing, 
his  zeal  played  him  a  sorry  trick,  ecHpsing  the  caution  of  the  revolu- 
tionist by  the  eagerness  of  the  sagacious  general.  In  his  report  to  the 
Minister  of  War  he  comprehensively  discussed  both  the  fortification  of 
the  coast  and  the  strengthening  of  the  navy,  which  were  alike  indispen- 
sable to  the  wonderful  scheme  of  operations  in  Italy  which  he  appears 
to  have  been  already  revolving  in  his  mind.  The  Army  of  Italy,  and  in 
fact  all  southeastern  France,  depended  at  the  moment  for  sustenance  on 
the  commerce  of  Genoa,  professedly  a  neutral  state  and  fi-iendly  to  the 
French  repubhc.  This  essential  trade  could  be  protected  only  by  mak- 
ing interference  from  the  Enghsh  and  Spaniards  impossible,  or  at  least 
difficult. 

Anived  at  Marseilles,  and  with  these  ideas  occupying  his  whole 
mind,  Buonaparte  regarded  the  situation  as  serious.  The  British  and 
Spanish  fleets  swept  the  seas,  and  were  virtually  blockading  aU  the 
Mediterranean  ports  of  France.  At  Toulon,  as  has  been  told,  they  ac- 
tually entered,  and  departed  only  after  losing  control  of  the  promon- 
tory which  forms  the  harbor.  There  is  a  similar  conformation  of 
the  ground  at  the  entrance  to  the  port  of  Marseilles,  but  Buonaparte 
found  that  the  fortress  which  occupied  the  point  had  been  dis- 
mantled. With  the  instinct  of  a  strategist,  and  with  no  other  thought 
than  that  of  his  duties  as  inspector,  he  sat  down,  and  on  January 
fourth,  1794,  wrote  a  most  impohtic  recommendation  that  the  fortifica- 
tion should  be  restored  in  such  a  way  as  to  "  command  the  town." 
These  words  almost  certainly  referred  both  to  the  possible  renewal  by 
the  conquered  French  royahsts  and  other  malcontents  of  theii'  efforts 
to  secure  Marseilles,  and  to  a  conceivable  effort  on  the  part  of  the 
Allies  to  seize  the  harbor.  Now  it  happened  that  the  hberals  of  the 
town  had  regarded  this  very  stronghold  as  their  Bastille,  and  it  had 
been  dismantled  by  them  in  emulation  of  then*  brethren  of  Paris.  The 
language  and  motive  of  the  report  were  therefore  capable  of  misinter- 
pretation.   A  storm  at  once  arose  among  the  Marseilles  Jacobins  against 


j^  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  24 

Chap,  xvxi  botli  Buonaparte  and  his  superior,  General  Lapoype ;  they  were  both 
1797-M  denounced  to  the  Convention,  and  in  due  time,  about  the  end  of  Febru- 
ary, were  both  summoned  before  the  bar  of  that  body.  In  the  mean 
time  Buonaparte's  nomination  as  general  of  brigade  had  been  confirmed, 
his  commission  amving  at  Marseilles  on  February  sixteenth.  It  availed 
nothing  toward  restoring  him  to  popularity;  on  the  contrary,  the  masses 
grew  more  suspicious  and  more  menacing.  He  therefore  retm-ned  to 
the  protection  of  Sahcetti  and  Robespien-e  at  Toulon,  whence  by  their 
advice  he  despatched  to  Paris  by  special  messenger  a  poor-spmted 
exculpatoiy  letter,  admitting  that  the  only  use  of  restoring  the  fort 
would  be  to  "  command  the  town,"  that  is,  control  it  by  military  power 
in  case  of  revolution.  Having  by  this  language  pusiHanimously 
acknowledged  a  fault  which  he  had  not  committed,  the  writer,  by  the 
advice  of  Sahcetti  and  Robespierre,  refused  to  obey  the  formal  sum- 
mons of  the  Convention  when  it  came.  Those  powerful  protectors 
made  vigorous  representations  to  their  friends  in  Paris,  and  Buona- 
parte was  saved.  On  April  first,  1794,  he  assimied  the  duties  of  his 
new  command,  reporting  himself  at  Nice.  Lapoype  went  to  Paris, 
appeared  at  the  bar  of  the  Convention,  and  was  triumphantly  acquitted. 

A  single  circumstance  changed  the  French  Revolution  fi-om  a  sec- 
tarian dogma  into  a  national  movement.  By  the  exertions  and  plans  of 
Camot  the  effective  force  of  the  French  army  had  been  raised  in  less 
than  two  years  fi'om  one  hundred  and  twelve  thousand  to  the  astonish- 
ing figure  of  over  seven  hundred  and  thii-ty  thousand.  The  discipline 
was  now  rigid,  and  the  machine  was  perfectly  adapted  to  the  work- 
man's hand,  although  for  lack  of  money  the  equipment  was  still  sadly 
defective.  In  the  Army  of  Italy  were  nearly  sixty-seven  thousand  men, 
a  number  which  included  aU  the  ganisons  and  reserve  of  the  coast 
towns  and  of  Corsica.  Its  organization,  like  that  of  the  other  portions 
of  the  mihtary  power,  had  been  simplified,  and  so  strengthened.  There 
were  a  commander-in-chief,  a  chief  of  staff,  three  generals  of  division, 
of  whom  Massena  was  one,  and  thu-teen  generals  of  brigade,  of  whom 
one,  Buonaparte,  was  the  commander  and  inspector  of  artillery. 

The  younger  Robespierre,  with  Ricord  and  Sahcetti,  were  the  "  rep- 
resentatives of  the  people."  The  first  of  these  was,  to  outward  appear- 
ance, the  leading  spirit  of  the  whole  organism,  and  to  his  support 
Buonaparte  was  now  thoroughly  committed.  The  young  artillery 
commander  was  considered  by  aU  at  Nice  to  be  a  pronounced  "  Mon- 


^T.24]  A   JACOBIN    GENERAL  143 

tagnard,"  that  is,  an  extreme  Jacobin.  Augustin  Robespien*e  had  chap,  xvii 
quickly  learned  to  see  and  hear  with  the  eyes  and  ears  of  his  Corsi-  1793-94 
can  friend,  whose  fideUty  seemed  assm-ed  by  hatred  of  Paoli  and  by  a 
desire  to  recover  the  family  estates  in  his  native  island.  Whatever 
the  ties  which  boimd  them  at  first,  the  ascendancy  of  Buonaparte 
was  thorough  in  the  end.  His  were  the  suggestions  and  the  enter- 
prises, the  pohtical  conceptions,  the  mihtary  plans,  the  devices  to 
obtain  ways  and  means.  It  was  probably  his  advice  which  was 
deteniiinative  in  the  scheme  of  operations  finally  adopted.  A  select 
thii'd  of  the  troops  were  chosen  and  divided  into  three  divisions  to 
assume  the  offensive,  under  Massena's  du-ection,  against  the  almost  im- 
pregnable posts  of  the  Austi'ians  and  Sardinians  in  the  upper  Apen- 
nines. The  rest  were  held  in  ganison  partly  as  a  reserve,  partly  to 
overawe  the  newly  conquered  depai'tment  of  which  Nice  was  the  capital. 

Genoa  now  stood  in  a  peculiar  relation  to  France.  Her  oligarchy, 
though  called  a  republic,  was  in  spirit  the  antipodes  of  French  democ- 
racy. Her  trade  was  essential  to  France,  but  Enghsh  influence  pre- 
dominated in  her  councils  and  English  force  worked  its  will  in  her 
domains.  In  October,  1793,  a  French  supply-ship  had  been  seized  by 
an  English  squadron  in  the  veiy  harbor.  Soon  afterward,  by  way  of 
rejoinder  to  this  act  of  violence,  the  French  minister  at  Grenoa  was  offi- 
cially informed  from  Paris  that  as  it  appeared  no  longer  possible  for  a 
French  anny  to  reach  Lombardy  by  the  direct  route  through  the  Apen- 
nines, it  might  be  necessary  to  advance  along  the  coast  through  Geno- 
ese territoiy.  This  announcement  was  no  threat,  but  serious  earnest ; 
the  plan  had  been  carefuUy  considered  and  was  before  long  to  be  put 
into  execution.  It  was  merely  as  a  feint  that  in  April,  1794:,  hostihties 
were  formally  opened  against  Sardinia  and  Austria.  Massena  seized 
Ventimiglia  on  the  sixth.  Advancing  by  Onegha  and  Ormea,  in  the 
vaUey  of  the  Stura,  he  turned  the  position  of  the  aUied  Austrians  and 
Sardinians,  thus  compeUing  them  to  evacuate  their  strongholds  one 
by  one,  until  on  May  seventh  the  pass  of  Tenda,  leading  direct  into 
Lombardy,  was  abandoned  by  them. 

The  result  of  this  movement  was  to  infuse  new  enthusiasm  into  the 
army,  while  at  the  same  time  it  set  free,  for  offensive  warfare,  large 
numbers  of  the  garrison  troops  in  places  now  no  longer  in  danger. 
Massena  wi'ote  in  terms  of  exultation  of  the  devotion  and  endurance 
which  his  troops  had  shown  in  the  sacred  name  of  hberty.     "  They 


144  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  24 

Chap,  xvn  know  how  to  conquer  and  never  complain.  Marching  barefoot,  and 
1793^94  often  without  rations,  they  abuse  no  one,  but  sing  the  loved  notes  of 
'  ^a  ira '  —  'T  wUl  go,  't  will  go !  We  '11  make  the  creatures  that  sur- 
round the  despot  at  Turin  dance  the  Carmagnole ! "  Victor  Amadeus, 
King  of  Sardinia,  was  an  excellent  specimen  of  the  benevolent  despot ; 
it  was  he  they  meant.  Augustin  Robespien-e  wrote  to  his  brother 
Maximilien,  in  Paris,  that  they  had  found  the  country  before  them 
deserted:  forty  thousand  souls  had  fled  from  the  single  valley  of 
Onegha,  having  been  terrified  by  the  accounts  of  French  savagery  to 
women  and  children,  and  of  theii'  impiety  in  devastating  the  churches 
and  religious  estabhshments. 

Whether  the  phenomenal  success  of  this  short  campaign,  which 
lasted  but  a  month,  was  expected  or  not,  nothing  was  done  to  improve 
it,  and  the  advancing  battalions  suddenly  stopped,  as  if  to  make  the 
impression  that  they  could  go  farther  only  by  way  of  Grenoese  ten-itory. 
Buonaparte  would  certainly  have  shared  in  the  campaign  had  it  been  a 
serious  attack ;  but,  except  to  bring  captured  stores  from  Onegha,  he 
did  nothing,  devoting  the  months  of  May  and  June  to  the  completion 
of  his  shore  defenses,  and  living  at  Nice  with  his  mother  and  her  family. 
That  famous  and  coquettish  town  was  now  the  center  of  a  gay  repubh- 
can  society  in  which  Napoleon  and  his  pretty  sisters  were  important 
persons.  They  were  the  constant  companions  of  young  Robespierre 
and  Ricord.  The  former,  amazed  by  the  activity  of  his  friend's  brain, 
the  scope  of  his  plans,  and  the  terrible  energy  which  marked  his  prep- 
arations, wrote  of  Napoleon  that  he  was  a  man  of  "transcendent 
merit."  Marmont,  speaking  of  Napoleon's  charm  at  this  time,  says: 
"There  was  so  much  future  in  his  mind.  .  .  .  He  had  acquired  an 
ascendancy  over  the  representatives  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe." 
He  also  declares,  and  Sahcetti  too  repeatedly  asseverated,  that  Buona- 
parte was  the  "  man,  the  plan-maker,"  of  the  Robespierres. 

The  impression  which  Salicetti  and  Marmont  expressed  was  doubt- 
less due  to  the  conclusions  of  a  council  of  war  held  on  May  twentieth 
by  the  leaders  of  the  two  armies — of  the  Alps  and  of  Italy — to  concert 
a  plan  of  cooperation.  Naturally  each  group  of  generals  desired  the 
foremost  place  for  the  army  it  represented.  Buonaparte  overrode  all 
objections,  and  compelled  the  acceptance  of  a  scheme  entirely  his  own, 
which  with  some  additions  and  by  careful  elaboration  ultimately  devel- 
oped into  the  famous  plan  of  campaign  in  Italy.     But  affairs  in  Grenoa 


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^T.24]  A   JACOBIN    GENERAL  145 

were  becoming  so  menacing  tliat  for  the  moment  they  demanded  the  chap.  xvii 
exclusive  attention  of  the  French  authorities.  Austrian  troops  had  1793-94 
disregarded  her  neutrahty  and  trespassed  on  her  ten-itory;  the  land 
■was  full  of  French  deserters,  and  England,  recalling  her  successes  in 
the  same  hne  during  the  American  Revolution,  had  estabhshed  a  press 
in  the  city  for  printing  counterfeit  French  money,  which  was  sent  by 
secret  mercantile  commimications  to  Marseilles,  and  there  was  put  in 
cu-culation.  It  was  consequently  soon  determined  to  amplify  greatly 
the  plan  of  campaign,  and  likewise  to  send  a  mission  to  Genoa.  Buona- 
parte was  himself  appointed  the  envoy,  and  thus  became  the  pivot  of 
both  movements  —  that  against  Piedmont  and  that  against  Genoa. 


ao 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

vicissitudes  in  wak  and  diplomacy 

Signs  of  Maturity — The  Mission  to  Genoa — Course  of  the  French 
Republic — The  "  Terror" — Therivitdor — Bonaparte  a  Scapegoat 
— His  Prescience — Adventures  op  his  Brothers — Napoleon's 
Defense  of  his  French  Patriotism — Bloodshedding  for  Amuse- 
ment— New  Expedition  against  Corsica — Bonaparte's  Advice 
FOR  ITS  Conduct. 


Chap,  xvm  T)UONAPARTE'S  plan  for  combimng  operations  against  botli  Genoa 
1794  _13  and  Sardinia  was  at  first  hazy.  In  Ms  earliest  efforts  to  expand 
and  clarify  it,  he  wrote  a  rambling  document,  still  in  existence,  which 
draws  a  contrast  between  the  opposite  policies  to  be  adopted  with 
reference  to  Italy  and  Spain.  In  it  he  also  calls  attention  to  the 
scarcity  of  officers  snitable  for  concerted  action  in  a  great  enterprise, 
and  a  remark  concerning  the  course  to  be  pui'sued  in  this  particular 
case  contains  the  germ  of  his  whole  mihtary  system.  "  Combine  your 
forces  in  a  war,  as  in  a  siege,  on  one  point.  The  breach  once  made, 
equihbrium  is  destroyed,  everything  else  is  useless,  and  the  place  is 
taken.  Do  not  conceal,  but  concentrate,  your  attack."  In  the  matter 
of  pontics  he  sees  Germany  as  the  main  prop  of  opposition  to  democ- 
racy; Spain  is  to  be  dealt  with  on  the  defensive,  Italy  on  the  offensive. 
But,  contrary  to  what  he  actually  did  in  the  following  year,  he  advises 
against  proceeding  too  far  into  Piedmont,  lest  the  adversary  should 
gaia  the  advantage  of  position.  This  paper  Robespierre  the  younger 
had  in  his  pocket  when  he  left  for  Paris,  summoned  to  aid  his  brother 
in  difficulties  which  were  now  pressing  fast  upon  him. 

Ricord  was  left  behind  to  direct,  at  least  nominally,  the  movements 
both  of  the  aimies  and  of  the  embassy  to  Genoa.  Buonaparte  con- 
tinued to  be  the  real  power.     Military  operations  having  been  sus- 

146 


^T.  24-25]  VICISSITUDES    IN    WAR    AND    DIPLOMACY  147 

pended  to  await  the  result  of  diplomacy,  his  iustructions  from  Ricord  Chap.  xvm 
were  drawn  so  as  to  be  loose  and  merely  fonnal.  On  July  eleventh  he  i794 
started  from  Nice,  reaching  his  destination  three  days  later.  Dm-ing  the 
week  of  his  stay — for  he  left  again  on  the  twenty-first — the  envoy 
made  his  representations,  and  laid  down  his  ultimatiun  that  the  republic 
of  Genoa  should  preserve  absolute  neutrality,  neither  permitting  troops 
to  pass  over  its  tenitories,  nor  lending  aid  in  the  consti-uction  of  mili- 
tary roads,  as  she  was  charged  with  doing  secretly.  His  success  in 
overawing  the  ohgarchy  was  complete,  and  a  written  promise  of  com- 
pliance to  these  demands  was  made  by  the  Doge.  Buonaparte  arrived 
again  in  Nice  on  the  twenty-eighth.  We  may  imagine  that  as  he  trav- 
eled the  romantic  road  between  the  mountains  and  the  sea,  the  rising 
general  and  diplomat  indulged  in  many  rosy  dreams,  probably  feeling 
ah'eady  on  his  shoulders  the  insignia  of  a  commander-in-chief.  But  he 
was  retiu'ning  to  disgrace,  if  not  to  destruction.  A  week  after  his 
arrival  came  the  stupefying  news  that  the  hour-glass  had  once  again, 
been  reversed,  that  on  the  very  day  of  his  own  exultant  return  to  Nice 
RobespieiTe's  head  had  fallen,  that  the  Mountain  was  shattered,  and 
that  the  land  was  again  staggering  to  gain  its  balance  after  another 
pohtical  earthquake. 

The  shock  had  been  awful,  but  it  was  directly  traceable  to  the 
accumulated  disorders  of  Jacobin  rule.  A  rude  and  vigorous  but  eerie 
order  of  things  had  been  inaugurated  on  November  twenty-fourth, 
1793,  by  the  so-called  republic.  There  was  first  the  new  calendar,  in 
which  the  year  I  began  on  September  twenty-second,  1792,  the  day  on 
which  the  repubhc  had  been  proclaimed.  In  it  were  the  twelve  thirty- 
day  months,  with  their  names  of  vintage,  fog,  and  frost ;  of  snow,  rain, 
and  wind;  of  bud,  flower,  and  meadow;  of  seed,  heat,  and  harvest: 
the  whole  terminated  most  unpoetically  by  the  five  or  six  supplemen- 
taiy  days  named  sansculottides,  — sansculottes  meaning  without  knee- 
breeches,  a  gannent  confined  to  the  upper  classes ;  that  is,  with  long 
trousers  like  the  common  people,  —  and  these  days  were  so  named 
because  they  were  to  be  a  hohday  for  the  long-trousered  populace 
which  was  to  use  the  new  reckoning.  There  was  next  the  new, 
strange,  and  unhallowed  spectacle  seen  in  history  for  the  first  time,  the 
realization  of  a  nightmare — a  whole  people  finally  turned  into  an  army, 
and  at  war  with  nearly  all  the  world.  The  reforming  Gii'ondists  had 
created  the  situation,  and  the  Jacobins,  with  giim  humor,  were  un- 


148 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  24-25 


Chap,  xvm  flincliingly  facing  the  logical  consequences  of  such  audacity.  Carnot 
ivji  had  given  the  watchword  of  attack  in  mass  and  with  superior  numbers; 
the  times  gave  the  frenzied  courage  of  sentimental  exaltation.  Before 
the  end  of  1793  the  foreign  enemies  of  France,  though  not  conquered, 
had  been  checked  on  the  frontier ;  the  outbreak  of  civil  war  in  Vendee 
had  been  temporarily  suppressed;  both  Lyons  and  Toulon  had  been 
retaken. 

The  Jacobins  were  nothing  if  not  thorough ;  and  here  was  another 
new  and  awful  thing — the  "TeiTor" — which  had  broken  loose  with  its 
foul  furies  of  party  against  party  through  aU  the  land.  It  seemed  at 
last  as  if  it  were  exhausting  itself,  though  for  a  time  it  had  gi'own  in 
intensity  as  it  spread  in  extent.  It  had  created  thi*ee  factions  in  the 
Mountain.  Early  in  1794  there  remained  but  a  httle  handful  of  avowed 
and  still  eager  terrorists  in  the  Convention — Hebert  and  his  friends. 
These  were  the  atheists  who  had  abohshed  rehgion  and  the  past,  bow- 
ing down  before  the  fetish  which  they  dubbed  Reason.  They  were 
seized  and  put  to  death  on  March  twenty-fourth.  There  then  remained 
the  chques  of  Danton  and  Robespien-e ;  the  former  claiming  the  name 
of  moderates,  and  teUing  men  to  be  cahn,  the  latter  with  no  principle 
but  devotion  to  a  person  who  claimed  to  be  the  regenerator  of  society. 
These  hero-worshipers  were  for  a  time  victorious.  Danton,  Hke  He- 
bert, was  foully  murdered,  and  Robespierre  remained  alone,  virtually 
dictator.  But  his  theatrical  conduct  in  decreeing  by  law  the  existence 
of  a  Supreme  Being  and  the  immortahty  of  the  soul,  and  in  organizing 
tawdry  festivals  to  supply  the  place  of  worship,  utterly  embittered 
against  him  both  atheists  and  pious  people.  In  disappointed  rage  at  his 
faHm-e,  he  laid  aside  the  characters  of  prophet  and  mild  saint  to  give 
vent  to  his  natural  wickedness  and  become  a  devil. 

Dming  the  long  days  of  June  and  July  there  raged  again  a  carnival  of 
blood,  known  to  history  as  the  "  Great  TeiTor."  In  less  than  seven  weeks 
upward  of  twelve  himdred  victims  were  immolated.  The  unbridled 
Hcense  of  the  guillotine  broadened  as  it  ran.  First  the  aristocrats  had 
f aUen,  then  royalty,  then  then-  sympathizers,  then  the  hated  rich,  then 
the  merely  weU-to-do,  and  lastly  anybody  not  cringing  to  existing  power. 
The  reaction  against  Robespierre  was  one  of  universal  fear.  Its  incep- 
tion was  the  work  of  Talhen,  Fouche,  Barras,  Can-ier,  Freron,  and  the 
like,  men  of  vile  character,  who  knew  that  i£  Robespierre  could  maintain 
his  pose  of  the  "  Incorruptible  "  theh^  doom  was  sealed.     In  this  sense 


^T.  24-25]  VICISSITUDES    IN   "WAR   AND    DIPLOMACY  149 

Robespierre  was  what  Napoleon  called  him  at  St.  Helena,  "  the  scape-  chap.  xvin 
goat  of  the  Revolution."  The  uprising  of  these  accomplices  was,  how-  1794 
ever,  the  opportunity  long  desired  by  the  better  elements  ia  Parisian  so- 
ciety, and  the  two  antipodal  classes  made  common  cause.  Dictator  as 
Robespierre  wished  to  be,  he  was  formed  of  other  stuff,  for  when  the 
reckoning  came  his  brutal  violence  was  cowed.  On  July  twenty-sev- 
enth (the  ninth  of  Thermidor),  the  Convention  tm-ned  on  him  in  re- 
beUion,  extreme  radicals  and  moderate  conservatives  combining  for  the 
effort.  Terrible  scenes  were  enacted.  The  sections  of  Paris  were  di- 
vided, some  for  the  Convention,  some  for  Robespierre.  The  artillerymen 
who  were  ordered  by  the  latter  to  batter  down  the  part  of  the  Tuileries 
where  his  enemies  were  sitting  hesitated  and  disobeyed ;  at  once  all  re- 
sistance to  the  decrees  of  the  Convention  died  out.  The  dictator  would 
have  been  his  own  executioner,  but  his  faltering  terrors  stopped  him 
midway  in  his  half- committed  suicide.  He  and  his  brother,  with  their 
friends,  were  seized,  and  beheaded  on  the  moiTOw.  With  the  downfall 
of  Robespien'e  went  the  last  vestige  of  social  or  political  authority ;  for 
the  Convention  was  no  longer  trusted  by  the  nation  —  the  only  organ- 
ized power  with  popular  support  which  was  left  was  the  ai-my. 

This  was  the  news  which,  traveling  southward,  finally  reached  Tou- 
lon, Marseilles,  and  Nice,  cities  where  Robespien-e's  stanchest  adherents 
were  flaunting  their  newly  gained  importance.  No  wonder  if  the  brains 
of  common  men  reeled.  The  recent  so-called  parties  had  disappeared 
for  the  moment  hke  wraiths.  The  victorious  gi'oup  in  the  Convention, 
now  known  as  the  Thermidorians,  was  compounded  of  elements  fi'om 
them  both,  and  claimed  to  represent  the  whole  of  France  as  the  wretched 
factions  who  had  so  long  controlled  the  govenmient  had  never  done. 
Where  now  should  those  who  had  been  active  supporters  of  the  late  ad- 
ministration turn  for  refuge  ?  The  Corsicans  who  had  escaped  from  the 
island  at  the  same  time  with  Salicetti  and  the  Buonapartes  were  nearly 
all  with  the  Army  of  Italy.  They  had  been  given  employment,  but, 
having  failed  to  keep  Corsica  for  France,  were  not  in  high  favor.  It 
had  ah'eady  been  remarked  in  the  Committee  of  Pubhc  Safety  that  their 
patriotism  was  less  manifest  than  their  disposition  to  enrich  themselves. 
This  too  was  the  opinion  of  many  among  their  own  countrymen,  espe- 
cially of  their  own  partizans  shut  up  in  Bastia  or  Calvi  and  deserted. 
SaUcetti,  ever  ready  for  emergencies,  was  not  disconcerted  by  this  one ; 
and  with  adroit  baseness  turned  informer,  denouncing  as  a  suspicious 


150 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  24-25 


Chap,  xviii  schemer  his  former  protege  and  lieutenant,  of  whose  budding  greatness 
1794       he  was  now  well  aware.     He  was  both  jealous  and  alaimed. 

Buonaparte's  mission  to  Genoa  had  been  openly  political ;  secretly 
it  was  also  a  military  reconnaissance,  and  his  confidential  instructions, 
vii-tually  dictated  by  himself,  had  unfortunately  leaked  out.  They  had 
directed  him  to  examine  the  fortifications  in  and  about  both  Savona  and 
Genoa,  to  investigate  the  state  of  the  Genoese  artillery,  to  inform  him- 
self as  to  the  behavior  of  the  French  envoy  to  the  republic,  to  learn  as 
much  as  possible  of  the  intentions  of  the  oligarchy  —  in  short,  to  gather 
aU  information  useful  for  the  conduct  of  a  war  "  the  result  of  which  it 
is  impossible  to  foresee."  Buonaparte,  knowing  that  he  had  trodden 
dangerous  ground  in  his  unauthorized  and  secret  deahngs  with  the 
younger  Robespierre,  and  probably  foreseeing  the  coming  storm,  began  to 
shorten  sail  immediately  upon  reaching  Nice.  Either  he  was  prescient 
and  felt  the  new  influences  in  the  au*,  or  else  a  letter  now  in  the  war 
office  at  Paris,  and  piu-porting  to  have  been  written  on  August  seventh, 
to  Tilly,  the  French  agent  at  Genoa,  is  an  antedated  fabrication  wiitten 
later  for  Sahcetti's  use.  Speakiag  in.  this  paper  of  Robespierre  the 
younger,  he  said:  "I  was  a  httle  touched  by  the  catastrophe,  for  I  loved 
him  and  thought  him  spotless.  But  were  it  my  own  father,  I  would 
stab  him  to  the  heart  if  he  aspired  to  become  a  tyrant."  If  the  letter 
be  genuine,  as  is  probable,  the  writer  was  very  far-sighted.  He  knew 
that  its  contents  would  speedily  reach  Paris  in  the  despatches  of  TUly, 
so  that  it  was  virtually  a  pubhc  renunciation  of  Jacobinism  at  the  ear- 
Hest  possible  date,  an  anchor  to  windward  in  the  approaching  tempest. 
But  the  ruse  was  of  no  avail ;  he  was  first  superseded  in  his  command, 
then  arrested  on  August  tenth,  and,  fortunately  for  himself,  imprisoned 
two  days  later  in  Fort  Carre,  near  Antibes,  instead  of  being  sent  direct 
to  Paris  as  some  of  his  friends  were.  This  temporary  shelter  from  the 
devastating  blast  he  owed  to  Salicetti,  who  would,  no  doubt,  without 
hesitation  have  destroyed  a  friend  for  his  own  safety,  but  was  willing 
enough  to  spare  him  i£  not  driven  to  extremity. 

As  the  true  state  of  things  in  Corsica  began  to  be  known  in  France, 
there  was  a  general  disposition  to  blame  and  pimish  the  influential 
men  who  had  brought  things  to  such  a  desperate  pass  and  made  the- 
loss  of  the  island  probable,  if  not  certain.  Sahcetti,  Multedo,  and  the 
rest  quickly  unloaded  the  whole  blame  on  Buonaparte's  shoulders,  so 
that  he  had  many  enemies  in  Paris.     Thus  by  apparent  harshness  to 


AQUAHELLe    tSAOE    FOB    THE    CENTUEY    CO. 


BONAPARTE    UNDER  ARREST,  AUGUST,    I7Q4 


KKOM     THK    AQKARKLLK    BV     KBIC    PAPS 


MT.m'25]  VICISSITUDES    IN    WAR   AND    DIPLOMACY  151 

one  whom  lie  still  considered  a  subordinate,  the  real  culprit  escaped  Chap,  xvin 
suspicion.  Assm-ed  of  immimity  fi-om  punishment  himself,  Salicetti  i794 
was  content  with  his  rival's  humiliation,  and  felt  no  real  rancor  toward 
the  family.  This  is  clear  from  his  treatment  of  Louis  Buonaparte,  who 
had  fallen  fi-om  place  and  favor  along  with  his  brother,  hut  was  hy 
Sahcetti's  influence  soon  afterward  made  an  officer  of  the  home  guard 
at  Nice.  Joseph  had  rendered  himself  conspicuous  in  the  very  height 
of  the  storm  by  a  brilhant  manuage  ;  but  neither  he  nor  Fesch  was 
arrested,  and  both  managed  to  pull  through  with  whole  skins.  The 
noisy  Lucien  was  also  married,  but  to  a  gu-l  who,  though  respectable, 
was  poor;  and  in  consequence  he  was  thoroughly  frightened  at  the 
thought  of  losing  his  means  of  support.  But  though  menaced  with 
an*est,  he  was  sufficientlj^  insignificant  to  escape  for  the  time. 

Napoleon  was  kept  in  captivity  but  thirteen  days.  Sahcetti  ap- 
parently found  it  easier  than  he  had  supposed  to  exculpate  himself 
from  the  charge  either  of  participating  in  Robespierre's  conspiracy  or 
of  having  brought  about  the  Corsican  insmTection.  More  than  this, 
he  found  himself  firm  in  the  good  gi'aces  of  the  Thermidorians,  among 
whom  his  old  friends  Barras  and  Freron  were  held  in  high  esteem. 
It  would  therefore  be  a  simple  thing  to  liberate  Greneral  Buonaparte,  if 
only  a  proper  expression  of  opinion  could  be  secured  fi-om  him.  The 
clever  prisoner  had  it  ready  before  it  was  needed.  To  the  faithful 
Junot  he  wrote  a  kindly  note  dechning  to  be  rescued  by  a  body  of 
friends  organized  to  storm  the  prison  or  scale  its  walls.  Such  a  course 
would  have  compromised  him  further.  But  to  the  "representatives  of 
the  people  "  he  wrote  in  language  which  finally  committed  him  for  Ufe. 
He  explained  that  in  a  revolutionary  epoch  there  are  but  two  classes  of 
men,  patriots  and  suspects.  It  could  easily  be  seen  to  which  class  a 
man  belonged  who  had  fought  both  intestine  and  foreign  foes.  "I 
have  sacrificed  residence  in  my  department,  I  have  abandoned  aU  my 
goods,  I  have  lost  aU  for  the  republic.  Since  then  I  have  served  at 
Toulon  with  some  distinction,  and  I  have  deserved  a  share  with  the 
Army  of  Italy  in  the  laurels  it  earned  at  the  taking  of  Saorgio,  OnegUa, 
and  Tanaro.  On  the  discovery  of  Robespierre's  conspiracy  my  con- 
duct was  that  of  a  man  accustomed  to  regard  nothing  but  principle." 
The  letter  concludes  with  a  passionate  appeal  to  each  one  separately 
and  by  name  for  justice  and  restoration.  "An  hour  later,  if  the  wicked 
want  my  life,  I  will  gladly  give  it  to  them,  I  care  so  little  for  it,  I 


152 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.'24-25 


Chap.  x^^II  weary  so  often  of  it !  Yes ;  the  idea  that  it  may  be  still  useful  to 
1794        my  country  is  all  that  makes  me  bear  the  burden  with  courage." 

SaUcetti  in  person  went  through  the  form  of  examining  the  papers 
offered  in  proof  of  Buonaparte's  statements ;  found  them,  as  a  matter 
of  coiu-se,  satisfactory;  and  the  commissioners  restored  the  suppliant 
to  partial  liberty,  but  not  to  his  post.  He  was  to  remain  at  army  head- 
quarters, and  the  stiU  temble  Committee  of  Safety  was  to  receive 
regular  reports  of  his  doings.  This,  too,  was  but  a  subterfuge.  Com- 
missioners from  the  Thermidorians  arrived  soon  after  with  orders  that 
for  the  present  all  offensive  operations  in  Italy  were  to  be  suspended  in 
order  to  put  the  strength  of  the  district  into  a  maritime  expedition 
against  Kome  and  ultimately  against  Corsica,  which  was  now  in  the 
hands  of  England.  Buonaparte  immediately  sought,  and  by  Salicetti's 
favor  obtained,  the  important  charge  of  eqidpping  and  inspecting  the 
artillery  destined  for  the  enterprise.  He  intended  to  make  the  venture 
teU  in  his  personal  interest  against  the  Enghsh  party  now  triumphant 
in  his  home.  This  was  the  middle  of  September.  Before  beginning 
to  prepare  for  the  Corsican  expedition,  the  army  made  a  final  demon- 
stration to  secure  its  hnes.  It  was  diuHing  the  preparatory  days  of  this 
short  campaign  that  a  dreadful  incident  occurred.  Buonaparte  had 
long  since  learned  the  power  of  women,  and  had  been  ardently  atten- 
tive in  turn  both  to  Charlotte  Robespierre  and  to  Mme.  Ricord.  "  It 
was  a  great  advantage  to  please  them,"  he  said ;  "  for  in  a  lawless  time 
a  representative  of  the  people  is  a  real  power."  Mme.  Turreau,  wife  of 
one  of  the  new  commissioners,  was  now  the  ascendant  star  in  his  at- 
tentions. One  day,  while  walking  arm  in  arm  with  her  near  the  top  of 
the  Tenda  pass,  Buonaparte  took  a  sudden  fi-eak  to  show  her  what  war 
was  like,  and  ordered  the  advance-guard  to  charge  the  Austrian  pickets. 
The  attack  was  not  only  useless,  but  it  endangered  the  safety  of  the 
army ;  yet  it  was  made  according  to  command,  and  hmnan  blood  was 
shed.  The  story  was  told  by  Napoleon  himself,  at  the  close  of  his  hf e, 
in  a  tone  of  repentance,  but  with  evident  rehsh. 

Buonaparte  was  present  at  the  ensuing  victories,  but  only  as  a 
weU-informed  spectator  and  adviser,  for  he  was  yet  in  nominal  dis- 
grace. Within  five  days  the  enemies'  hnes  were  driven  back  so  as 
to  leave  open  the  two  most  important  roads  into  Italy — that  by  the 
vaUey  of  the  Bormida  to  Alessandria,  and  that  by  the  shore  to  Genoa. 
The  difficult  pass  of  Tenda  fell  entirely  into  French  hands.     The  Eng- 


^T.  24-25]  VICISSITUDES    IN    WAR   AND    DIPLOMACY  153 

lish  could  not  disembark  their  troops  to  sti'engthen  the  Allies.  The  Chap,  xvin 
commerce  of  Grenoa  with  Marseilles  was  reestabUshed  by  land.  "  We  i794 
have  celebrated  the  fifth  sansculottide  of  the  year  II  (September 
twenty-first,  1794)  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  repubhc  and  the  Na- 
tional Convention,"  wi'ote  the  commissioners  to  theu*  coUeagiies  in 
Paris.  On  the  twenty-fom-th.  General  Buonaparte  was  released  by 
them  from  attendance  at  headquarters,  thus  becoming  once  again  a 
free  man  and  his  own  master.  He  proceeded  immediately  to  Toulon 
in  order  to  prepare  for  the  Corsican  expedition.  Once  more  the  power 
of  a  great  nation  was,  he  hoped,  to  be  directed  against  the  land  of  his 
birth,  and  he  was  an  important  agent  in  the  plan. 

To  regain,  if  possible,  some  of  his  lost  influence  in  the  island,  Buo- 
naparte had  already  renewed  communication  with  former  acquain- 
tances in  Ajaccio.  In  a  letter  written  immediately  after  his  release  in 
September,  1794,  to  the  Corsican  deputy  Multedo,  he  informed  his  cor- 
respondent that  his  birthplace  was  the  weakest  spot  on  the  island,  and 
open  to  attack.  The  information  was  coiTect.  Paoli  had  made  an 
effort  to  strengthen  it,  but  without  success.  "  To  diive  the  EngUsh," 
said  the  writer  of  the  letter,  "  from  a  position  which  makes  them  mas- 
ters of  the  Mediterranean,  ...  to  emancipate  a  large  number  of  good 
patriots  still  to  be  found  in  that  department,  and  to  restore  to  their  fire- 
sides the  good  republicans  who  have  deserved  the  care  of  their  country 
by  the  generous  manner  in  which  they  have  suffered  for  it,  this,  my 
friend,  is  the  expedition  which  should  occupy  the  attention  of  the  gov- 
ernment." Perhaps  the  old  vista  of  becoming  a  Corsican  hero  opened 
up  once  agaiQ  to  a  sore  and  disappointed  man,  but  it  is  not  probable : 
the  horizon  of  his  life  had  expanded  too  far  to  be  agaia  contracted,  and 
the  present  task  was  probably  considered  but  as  a  bridge  to  cross  once 
more  the  waters  of  bitterness. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


THE  END   OF  APPEENTICESHIP 


The  English  Conquest  of  Coesica — Effects  in  Italy — The  Buo- 
napartes AT  Toulon — Napoleon  Thwaeted  Again — Depaetuee 
FOR  Paeis — His  Chaeactee  Deteemined  —  His  Capacities — Re- 
action FEOM  THE   "  TeEEOE" — RESOLUTIONS    OF    THE   CONVENTION — 

Parties  in  France — Their  Lack  of  Experience — A  New  Con- 
stitution— Different  Views  of  its  Value. 

Chap.  XIX  f  I  "^HE  turmoils  of  civil  war  in  France  had  now  left  Corsica  to  her 
1795  A  pursuits  for  many  months.  Her  internal  affairs  had  gone  from  bad 
to  worse,  and  Paoh,  unable  to  control  his  people,  had  found  himself 
helpless.  Compelled  to  seek  the  support  of  some  strong  foreign  power, 
he  had  instinctively  turned  to  England,  and  the  English  fleet,  driven 
fi'om  Toulon,  was  finally  free  to  help  him.  On  February  seventeenth, 
1794,  it  entered  the  fine  harbor  of  St.  Florent,  and  captured  the  town 
without  an  effort.  Estabhshing  a  depot  which  thus  separated  the  two 
remainiag  centers  of  French  influence,  Calvi  and  Bastia,  the  Enghsh 
admii-al  next  laid  siege  to  the  latter.  The  place  made  a  gallant  defense, 
holding  out  for  over  three  months,  untU  on  May  twenty-fomih  Captaia 
Nelson,  who  had  controlled  operations  for  eighty-eight  days, — nearly 
the  entire  time, — finally  directed  the  guns  of  the  Agamemnon  with  such 
destructive  force  against  the  little  city  that  it  surrendered.  The  terms 
made  by  its  captors  were  the  easiest  known  to  modem  warfare,  the 
conquered  beiag  granted  all  the  honors  of  war.  As  a  direct  and  imme- 
diate result,  the  Corsican  estates  met,  and  declared  the  island  a  consti- 
tutional monarchy  under  the  protection  of  England.  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot 
was  appointed  viceroy,  and  Paoh  was  recalled  by  George  III.  to  Eng- 
land. On  August  first  fell  Calvi,  the  last  French  stronghold  in  the 
country,  hitherto  considered  impregnable  by  the  Corsicans. 


I 


^T.  25]  THE   END    OF    APPRENTICESHIP 


155 


The  presence  of  England  so  close  to  Italian  shores  unmediately  pro-  chap.  xix 
duced  thi'oughout  Lombardy  and  Tuscany  a  reaction  of  feeling  in  favor  1^5 
of  the  French  Revolution  and  its  advanced  ideas.  The  Committee  of 
Safety  meant  to  take  advantage  of  this  sentiment  and  punish  Rome  for 
an  insult  to  the  repubhc  still  unavenged — the  death  of  the  French  min- 
ister, in  1793,  at  the  hands  of  a  mob ;  perhaps  they  might  also  drive 
the  British  fi'om  Corsica.  This  explained  the  arrival  of  the  commis- 
sioners at  Nice  with  the  order  to  cease  operations  against  Sardinia  and 
Austria,  for  the  purpose  of  striking  at  Enghsh  influence  in  Italy,  and 
possibly  in  Corsica. 

Every  thing  but  one  was  soon  in  readiness.  To  meet  the  Enghsh 
fleet,  the  shipwrights  at  Toulon  must  prepare  a  powerful  squadron. 
They  did  not  complete  their  gigantic  task  until  February  nineteenth, 
1795.  We  can  imagine  the  intense  activity  of  any  man  of  great  power, 
determined  to  reconquer  a  lost  position :  what  Buonaparte's  fii"e  and 
zeal  must  have  been  we  can  scarcely  conceive ;  even  his  fiercest  de- 
tractors bear  witness  to  the  activity  of  those  months.  When  the  order 
to  embark  was  given,  his  organization  and  material  were  both  as  nearly 
perfect  as  possible.  His  mother  had  brought  the  younger  children  to  a 
charming  house  near  by,  where  she  entertained  the  influential  women 
of  the  neighborhood ;  and  thither  her  busy  son  often  withdrew  for  the 
pleasures  of  a  society  which  he  was  now  beginning  thoroughly  to 
enjoy.  Thanks  to  the  social  diplomacy  of  this  most  ingenious  family, 
everything  went  well  for  a  time,  even  with  Lucien ;  and  Louis,  now 
sixteen,  was  made  a  heutenant  of  artillery.  At  the  last  moment  came 
what  seemed  the  climax  of  Napoleon's  good  fortune,  the  assurance  that 
the  destination  of  the  fleet  would  be  Corsica.  Peace  was  made  with 
Tuscany,  Rome  could  not  be  reached  without  a  decisive  engagement 
with  the  Enghsh ;  therefore  the  first  object  of  the  expedition  would  be 
to  engage  the  British  squadron  which  was  cruising  about  Corsica. 
Victory  would  of  course  mean  entrance  into  Corsican  harbors. 

On  March  eleventh  the  new  fleet  set  sail.  Its  very  first  encounter 
with  the  English  ended  in  a  disaster,  and  two  of  its  fine  ships  were  cap- 
tured ;  the  others  fled  to  Hyeresj  where  the  troops  were  disembarked 
from  their  transports,  and  sent  back  to  theh'  posts.  Once  more  Buona- 
parte was  the  victim  of  uncontrollable  circumstance.  Destitute  of  em- 
ployment, stripped  even  of  the  httle  credit  gained  in  the  last  half-year, 
he  stood  for  the  seventh  time  on  the  threshold  of  the  world,  a  suppliant 


156 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t. 


Chap.  XIX  at  the  door.  In  some  respects  lie  was  worse  equipped  for  success  tlian 
1795  at  the  beginnmg,  for  he  now  had  a  record  to  expunge.  To  an  outsider 
the  spring  of  1795  must  have  appeared  the  most  critical  period  of  his 
life.  He  himself  knew  better;  in  fact,  this  ill-fated  expedition  was 
probably  soon  forgotten  altogether.  In  his  St.  Helena  reminiscences, 
at  least,  he  never  recalled  it :  at  that  time  he  was  not  fond  of  mention- 
ing his  failm-es,  httle  or  great,  being  chiefly  concerned  to  hand  himself 
down  to  history  as  a  man  of  lofty  purposes  and  unsuUied  motives.  Be- 
sides, he  was  never  in  the  shghtest  degree  responsible  for  the  terrible 
waste  of  milUons  in  this  Ul-starred  maritime  entei-prise ;  aU  his  own 
plans  had  been  for  the  conduct  of  the  war  by  land. 

The  Corsican  administration  had  always  had  in  it  at  least  one  French 
representative.  Between  the  latest  of  these,  Lacombe  Saint  Michel,  now 
a  member  of  the  Committee  of  Safety,  and  the  Salicetti  party  no  love 
was  ever  lost.  It  was  a  general  feeling  that  the  refugee  Corsicans  on 
the  Mediten-anean  shore  were  too  near  their  home.  They  were  always 
charged  with  imscrupulous  planning  to  fill  their  own  pockets.  Now, 
somehow  or  other,  inexplicably  perhaps,  but  nevertheless  certainly, 
a  costly  expedition  had  been  sent  to  Corsica  under  the  impulse  of 
these  very  men,  and  it  had  failed.  The  unlucky  adventurers  had 
scarcely  set  their  feet  on  shore  before  Lacombe  secured  Buonaparte's 
appointment  to  the  Army  of  the  West,  where  he  would  be  far  from  old 
influences,  with  orders  to  proceed  immediately  to  his  post.  The  papers 
reached  Marseilles,  whither  the  Buonapartes  had  already  betaken  them- 
selves, during  the  month  of  April.  On  May  second,  accompanied  by 
Louis,  Junot,  and  Marmont,  the  broken  general  set  out  for  Paris,  where 
he  arrived  with  his  companions  eight  days  later,  and  rented  shabby  lodg- 
ings in  the  Fosses-Montmartre,  now  Aboukir  street.  The  style  of  the 
house  was  Liberty  Hotel. 

At  this  point  Buonaparte's  apprentice  years  may  be  said  to  have 
ended:  he  was  virtually  the  man  he  remained  to  the  end.  A  Corsican 
by  origin,  he  retained  the  national  sensibility  and  an  enormous  power  of 
endurance  both  physical  and  intellectual,  together  with  the  dogged  per- 
sistence found  in  the  medieval  Corsicans.  He  was  devoted  with  primi- 
tive virtue  to  his  family  and  his  people,  but  was  willing  to  sacrifice  the 
latter,  at  least,  to  his  ambition.  His  moral  sense,  having  never  been 
developed  by  education,  and,  worse  than  that,  having  been  befogged  by 
the  extreme  sensibihty  of  Rousseau  and  by  the  chaos  of  the  times  whick 


LN    TUK    UOTKL    DK    VILLE,  AJACCIO 


ENORAVKU    BV    MULLEK    AAU    SCUUSaLl:^ 


MARIE-JULIE   CLARY 

WIFE   OF  JOSEPH    BONAPARTE;    Q.UEEN    OF    SPAIN 

FROM    TUK    PAINTING    BY    AN     UNKNuWN    ARTIST 


^T.  25]  THE    END    OF    APPRENTICESHIP  157 

that  prophet  had  brought  to  pass,  was  practically  lacking.  Neither  the  chap.  xix 
hostihty  of  his  father  to  rehgion,  nor  his  own  experiences  with  the  i795 
Jesuits,  could,  however,  entirely  eradicate  a  superstition  which  passed 
in  his  mind  for  faith.  Sometimes  he  was  a  scoffer,  as  many  with  weak 
convictions  are ;  hut  in  general  he  preserved  a  formal  and  outward  re- 
spect for  the  Chiu'ch.  He  was,  however,  a  stanch  opponent  of  Roman 
centrahzation  and  papal  pretensions.  His  theoretical  education  had 
been  narrow  and  one-sided;  but  his  reading  and  his  authorship,  in  spite 
of  their  superficial  and  desultory  character,  had  given  him  certain  large 
and  fairly  definite  conceptions  of  history  and  pohtics.  But  his  practi- 
cal education !  What  a  poHshing  and  sharpening  he  had  had  against 
the  revolving  world  moving  many  times  faster  then  than  in  most  ages ! 
He  was  an  adept  in  the  art  of  civil  war,  for  he  had  been  not  merely  an 
interested  observer,  but  an  active  participant  in  it  during  five  years  in 
two  countries.  Long  the  victim  of  wiles  more  secret  than  his  own,  he 
had  finally  gi'own  most  wily  in  diplomacy ;  an  ambitious  pohtician,  his 
pulpy  principles  were  repubhcan  in  their  character  so  far  as  they  had 
any  tissue  or  firmness. 

His  acquisitions  in  the  science  of  war  were  substantial  and  definite. 
Neither  a  martinet  himself  nor  in  any  way  tolerant  of  routine,  ignorant 
in  fact  of  many  hateful  details,  among  others  of  obedience,  he  yet  rose 
far  above  tradition  or  practice  in  his  conception  of  strategy.  He  was 
perceptibly  superior  to  the  world  about  him  in  almost  every  aptitude, 
and  particularly  so  in  power  of  combination,  in  originahty,  and  in  far- 
sightedness. He  could  neither  write  nor  spell  correctly,  but  he  was 
skilled  in  all  practical  applications  of  mathematics :  town  and  country, 
mountains  and  plains,  seas  and  rivers,  were  all  quantities  in  his  equa- 
tions. Untrustworthy  himself,  he  strove  to  arouse  trust,  faith,  and  de- 
votion in  those  about  him ;  and  concealing  successfully  his  own  purpose, 
he  read  the  hearts  of  others  hke  an  open  book.  Of  pure-minded  affec- 
tion for  either  men  or  women  he  had  so  far  shown  only  a  httle,  and  had 
experienced  in  return  even  less ;  but  he  had  studied  the  arts  of  gallan- 
try, and  understood  the  leverage  of  social  forces.  To  these  capacities, 
some  embryonic,  some  perfectly  formed,  add  the  fact  that  he  was  now  a 
cosmopohtan,  and  there  will  be  outline,  rehef,  and  color  to  his  charac- 
ter. "  I  am  in  that  frame  of  mind,"  he  said  of  himself  about  this  time, 
"in  which  men  are  when  on  the  eve  of  battle,  with  a  persistent  convic- 
tion that  since  death  is  imminent  in  the  end,  to  be  uneasy  is  folly. 


158 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t. 


Chap,  xix  Everything  makes  me  brave  death  and  destiny ;  and  if  this  goes  on,  I 
1795  shall  in  the  end,  my  friend,  no  longer  turn  when  a  carriage  passes.  My 
reason  is  sometimes  astonished  at  all  this ;  but  it  is  the  effect  produced 
on  me  by  the  moral  spectacle  of  this  land  [ce  'pays-ci,  not  patrie],  and  by 
the  habit  of  mnning  risks."  This  is  the  pov^er  and  the  temper  of  a  man 
of  whom  an  intimate  and  confidential  friend  predicted  that  he  would 
never  stop  short  until  he  had  moimted  either  the  throne  or  the  scaffold. 
The  ovei'throw  of  Robespierre  was  the  result  of  an  alHance  between 
what  may  be  called  the  radicals  and  the  conservatives  in  the  Conven- 
tion. Both  were  Jacobins,  for  the  Grirondists  had  been  discredited, 
and  put  out  of  doors.  It  was  not,  however,  the  Convention,  but  Paris, 
which  took  command  of  the  resulting  movement.  The  social  structure 
of  France  has  been  so  strong,  and  the  nation  so  homogeneous,  that  po- 
litical convulsions  have  had  much  less  influence  there  than  elsewhere. 
But  the  "Terror"  had  struck  at  the  heart  of  nearly  eveiy  family  of 
consequence  in  the  capital,  and  the  people  were  utterly  weary  of  hor- 
rors. The  wave  of  reaction  began  when  the  would-be  dictator  fell.  A 
wholesome  longing  for  safety,  with  its  attendant  pleasures,  overpow- 
ered society,  and  Ught-heartedness  returned.  Underneath  this  temper 
lay  but  partly  concealed  a  giim  determination  not  to  be  thwarted, 
which  awed  the  Convention.  Slowly,  yet  surely,  the  Jacobins  lost 
their  power.  As  once  the  whole  land  had  been  mastered  by  the  idea 
of  "  federation,"  and  as  a  later  patriotic  impulse  had  given  as  a  watch- 
word "the  nation,"  so  now  another  refrain  was  in  every  mouth — "hu- 
manity." The  very  songs  of  previous  stages,  the  "  ^a  ka  "  and  the 
"  Carmagnole,"  were  displaced  by  new  and  milder  ones.  With  Paris 
in  this  mood,  it  was  clear  that  the  proscribed  might  return,  and  the 
Convention,  for  its  intemperate  severity,  must  abdicate. 

This,  of  course,  meant  a  new  poUtical  experiment ;  but  being,  as 
they  were,  sanguine  admirers  of  Rousseau,  the  French  felt  no  appre- 
hension at  the  prospect.  The  present  constitution  of  the  third  repub- 
lic in  France  is  considered  a  happy  chance  by  many  who  live  under  it. 
It  is  far  from  being  perfectly  adapted  to  the  needs  of  the  nation ;  but 
what  fine  quahties  it  possesses  are  the  outcome,  not  of  chance,  nor  of 
theory,  but  of  a  century's  experience.  It  should  be  remembered  that 
France  in  the  eighteenth  century,  had  had  no  experience  whatever  of 
constitutional  government,  and  the  spirit  of  the  age  was  aU  for  theory 
in  poUtics.     Accordingly  the  democratic  monarchy  of  1791  had  failed 


^T.  25]  THE    END    OF   APPRENTICESHIP  159 

because,  its  framework  having  been  built  of  empty  visions,  its  consti-  chap.  xix 
tution  was  entirely  in  the  air.  The  same  fate  had  now  overtaken  the  i795 
Gh'ondist  experiment  of  1792  and  the  Jacobin  usurpation  of  the  follow- 
ing year,  which  was  ostensibly  sanctioned  by  the  popular  adoption  of  a 
new  constitution.  With  perfect  confidence  in  Rousseau's  idea  that  gov- 
ernment is  based  on  a  social  contract  between  individuals,  the  nation 
had  sworn  its  adhesion  to  two  constitutions  successively,  and  had  ratified 
the  act  each  time  by  appropriate  solemnities,  Abeady  the  flimsy  bub- 
ble of  such  a  conception  had  been  punctured.  Was  it  strange  that  the 
Convention  determined  to  repeat  the  same  old  experiment  ?  Not  at 
all.  They  knew  nothing  better  than  the  old  idea,  and  never  doubted 
that  the  fault  lay,  riot  in  the  system,  but  in  its  details ;  they  beheved 
they  could  improve  on  the  work  of  their  predecessors  by  the  change 
and  modification  of  particulars.  Aware,  therefore,  that  then*  own  day 
had  passed,  they  determined,  before  dissolving,  to  construct  a  new  and 
improved  form  of  government.  The  work  was  confided  to  a  committee 
of  eleven,  most  of  whom  were  Girondists  recalled  for  the  purpose  in 
order  to  hoodwink  the  pubhc.  They  now  separated  the  executive  and 
judiciary  from  each  other  and  from  the  legislature,  divided  the  latter 
into  two  branches,  so  as  to  cool  the  heat  of  popular  sentiment  before 
it  was  expressed  in  statutes,  and,  avoiding  the  pitfall  dug  for  itself  by 
the  National  Assembly,  made  members  of  the  Convention  ehgible  for 
election  under  the  new  system. 

If  the  monarchy  could  have  been  restored  at  the  same  time,  these 
features  of  the  new  charter  would  have  reproduced  in  France  some 
elements  of  the  British  constitution,  and  its  adoption  would  probably 
have  pacified  the  dynastic  rulers  of  Europe.  But  the  restoration  of 
monarchy  in  any  form  was  as  yet  impossible.  The  Bourbons  had 
utterly  discredited  royalty,  and  the  late  glorious  successes  had  been 
won  partly  by  the  lavish  use  in  the  enemy's  camp  of  money  raised 
and  granted  by  radical  democrats,  partly  by  the  prowess  of  enthusiastic 
repubhcans.  The  compact,  efficient  organization  of  the  national  army 
was  the  work  of  the  Jacobins,  and  while  the  Mountain  was  discredited 
in  Paris,  it  was  not  so  in  the  provinces ;  moreover,  the  army  which  was 
on  foot  and  in  the  field  was  in  the  main  a  Jacobin  army.  Royalty  was 
so  hated  by  most  Frenchmen  that  the  sad  phght  of  the  child  dauphin, 
dying  by  iaches  in  the  Temple,  awakened  no  compassion,  and  its  next 
lineal  representative  was  that  hated  thing,  a  voluntary  exile ;  the  no- 


jgQ  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25 

Chap.  XIX  biUty,  who  might  have  fui'nished  the  material  for  a  French  House  of 
iras  Lords,  were  traitors  to  their  coimtry,  actually  bearing  arms  in  the  levies 
of  her  foes.  The  national  feeling  was  a  passion ;  Louis  XVI.  had  been 
popular  enough  until  he  had  outraged  it  first  by  ordering  the  Chiu-ch 
to  remain  obedient  to  Rome,  and  then  by  appeahng  to  foreign  powers 
for  protection.  The  emigi-ant  nobles  had  stumbled  over  one  another 
in  then*  haste  to  manifest  then*  contempt  for  nationaUty  by  throwing 
themselves  into  the  arms  of  their  own  class  in  foreign  lands.  Moreover, 
the  work  of  the  Revolution  in  another  direction  could  not  be  undone. 
The  lands  of  both  the  emigrants  and  the  Church  had  either  been  seized 
and  divided  among  the  adherents  of  the  new  order,  or  else  appropriated 
to  state  uses.  Restitution  was  out  of  the  question,  for  the  power  of 
the  new  owners  was  sufficient  to  destroy  any  one  who  should  propose 
to  take  away  their  possessions.  A  constitutional  monarchy,  therefore, 
was  unthinkable.  A  presidential  government  on  the  model  of  that 
devised  and  used  by  the  United  States  was  equally  impossible,  because 
the  French  appear  already  to  have  had  a  premonition  or  an  instinct 
that  a  ripe  experience  of  Hberty  was  essential  to  the  working  of  such 
an  institution.  The  student  of  the  revolutionary  times  will  become 
aware  how  powerful  the  feeling  already  was  among  the  French,  that 
a  single  strong  executive,  elected  by  the  masses,  would  speedily  turn 
into  a  tyrant.  They  have  now  a  nominal  president ;  but  his  election 
is  indirect,  his  office  is  representative,  not  pohtical,  and  his  duties  are 
Hke  an  impersonal,  colorless  reflection  of  those  performed  by  the  Eng- 
Hsh  crown.  The  constitution-makers  simply  could  not  fall  back  on  an 
experience  of  successful  free  government  which  did  not  exist.  Abso- 
lute monarchy  had  made  gradual  change  impossible,  for  oppression  dies 
only  in  convulsions.  Experience  was  in  front,  not  behind,  and  must 
be  gained  through  suffering. 

It  was  therefore  a  sad  necessity  which  led  the  Thermidorians  of  the 
Convention  to  try  another  political  nostrum.  What  should  it  be? 
There  had  always  been  a  profound  sense  in  France  of  her  historic  con- 
tinuity with  Rome.  Her  system  of  jurisprudence,  her  speech,  her 
church,  her  very  land,  were  Roman.  Recalling  this,  the  constitution- 
framers  also  recollected  that  these  had  been  the  gifts  of  imperial  Rome. 
It  was  a  curious  but  characteristic  whim  which  consequently  sug- 
gested the  revival  of  Roman  forms  dating  from  the  commonwealth. 
This  it  was  which  led  them  to  comrdit  the  administration  of  govern- 


> 

o 

w 
O 
w 


m 
X 
H 


^T.  25]  THE   END    OF   APPRENTICESHIP  161 

ment  in  botli  external  and  internal  relations  to  a  divided  executive,  chap.  xix 
There,  however,  the  resemblance  to  Rome  ended,  for  instead  of  two  i795 
consuls  there  were  to  be  five  directors.  These  were  to  sit  as  a  commit- 
tee, to  appoint  their  own  ministerial  agents,  together  with  all  officers 
and  officials  of  the  army,  and  to  fill  the  few  positions  in  the  adminis- 
trative departments  which  were  not  elective,  except  those  in  the 
treasury,  which  was  a  separate,  independent  administration.  All  exec- 
utive powers  except  those  of  the  treasury  were  likewise  to  be  in  their 
hands.  They  were  to  have  no  veto,  and  their  treaties  of  peace  must  be 
ratified  by  the  legislature ;  but  they  could  declare  war  without  consult- 
ing any  one.  The  judiciary  was  to  be  elected  directly  by  the  people, 
and  the  judges  were  to  hold  office  for  about  a  year.  The  legislature 
was  to  be  separated  into  a  senate  with  two  hundred  and  fifty  members, 
called  the  Council  of  Ancients,  which  had  the  veto  power,  and  an  assem- 
bly called  the  Council  of  Juniors,  or,  more  popularly,  fi-om  its  number, 
the  Five  Hundred,  which  had  the  initiative  in  legislation.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  former  must  be  at  least  forty  years  old  and  man-ied ;  every 
aspu-ant  for  a  seat  in  the  latter  must  be  twenty-five  and  of  good 
character.  Both  these  bodies  were  alike  to  be  elected  by  universal 
suffrage  working  indirectly  through  secondary  electors,  and  limited  by 
educational  and  property  qualifications.  There  were  many  wholesome 
checks  and  balances. 

The  scheme  was  formed,  as  was  intended,  imder  Girondist  influence, 
and  was  acceptable  to  the  nation  as  a  whole.  In  spite  of  many  defects, 
it  might  after  a  Uttle  experience  have  been  amended  so  as  to  work,  if 
the  people  had  been  united  and  hearty  in  its  support.  But  they  were 
not.  The  Thennidorians,  who  were  still  Jacobins  at  heart,  ordered 
that  at  least  two  thu-ds  of  the  men  elected  to  sit  in  the  new  houses 
should  have  been  members  of  the  Convention,  on  the  plea  that  they 
alone  had  sufficient  experience  of  affairs  to  caiTy  on  the  public  business, 
at  least  for  the  present.  Perhaps  this  was  intended  as  some  offset  to 
the  closing  of  the  Jacobin  Club  on  November  twelfth,  1794,  before  the 
menaces  of  the  higher  classes  of  Parisian  society,  known  to  history  as 
"the  gilded  youth."  On  the  other  hand,  the  royalists  saw  in  the  new 
constitution  an  instrument  ready  to  their  hand,  should  public  opinion, 
in  its  search  for  means  to  restore  quiet  and  order,  be  carried  still  fur- 
ther away  from  the  Revolution  than  the  movement  of  Thermidor  had 
swept  it.     Their  conduct  justified  the  measures  of  the  Jacobins. 

22 


CHAPTER  XX 


THE  ANTECHAMBEK   TO   SUCCESS 


Punishment  of  the  Terrobists — Dangers  or  the  Thermidorians — 
Successes  of  Republican  Arms — The  Treaty  of  Basel — Yen- 
dean  Disorders  Repressed — The  "White  Terror" — Royalist 
Activity — Friction  under  the  New  Constitution — Arrival  of 
Bonaparte  in  Paris — Paris  Society — Its  Power — The  People 
Angry — Resurgence  of  Jacobinism — Bonaparte's  Dejection — 
His  Relations  with  Mme.  Permon — His  Magnanimity. 


1795 


Chap.  XX  i^iROM  time  to  time  after  the  events  of  Thermidor  the  more  active 
-L  agents  of  the  Terror  were  sentenced  to  transportation,  and  the 
less  guilty  were  imprisoned.  On  May  seventh,  1795,  three  days  before 
Buonaparte's  arrival  in  Paris,  Fouquier-Tinville,  and  fifteen  other 
wretches  who  had  been  but  tools,  the  executioners  of  the  revolutionary 
tribunal,  were  put  to  death.  The  National  Guard  had  been  reorgan- 
ized, and  Pichegru  was  recalled  fi'om  the  north  to  take  command  of 
the  united  forces  in  Paris  under  a  committee  of  the  Convention  with 
Barras  at  its  head. 

This  was  intended  to  overawe  those  citizens  of  Paris  who  were  hos- 
tile to  the  Jacobins.  They  saw  the  trap  set  for  them,  and  were  angry. 
During  the  years  of  internal  disorder  and  foreign  warfare  just  passed 
the  economic  conditions  of  the  land  had  grown  worse  and  worse,  until, 
in  the  winter  of  1794-95,  the  laboring  classes  of  Paris  were  again  on 
the  verge  of  starvation.  As  usual,  they  attributed  their  sufferings  to 
the  government,  and  there  were  bread  riots.  Twice  in  the  spring  of 
1795 — on  April  first  and  May  twentieth — the  unemployed  and  hungry 
rose  to  overthrow  the  Convention,  but  they  were  easily  put  down  by 
the  soldiers  on  both  occasions.  The  whole  populace,  as  represented  by 
the  sections  of  Paris,  resented  this  use  of  armed  force,  and  grew  un- 

162 


^T.25]  THE   ANTECHAMBER   TO    SUCCESS  163 

easy.  The  Thei-midorians  fiu'ther  angei'ed  it  by  introducing  a  new  ceap.  xx 
metropolitan  administration,  which  greatly  diminished  the  powers  and  i"95 
influence  of  the  sections,  without,  however,  destroying  their  organi- 
zation. The  people  of  the  capital,  therefore,  were  ready  for  mischief. 
The  storming  of  the  Tuileries  on  August  tenth,  1792,  had  been  the 
work  of  the  Paris  mob.  Why  could  they  not  overthrow  the  tyranny  of 
the  Jacobins  as  they  had  that  of  the  King  ? 

A  crisis  might  easily  have  been  precipitated  before  Buonaparte's 
arrival  in  Paris,  but  it  was  delayed  by  events  outside  the  city.  The 
year  1794  had  been  a  briUiant  season  for  the  repubhcan  arms  and  for 
repubhcan  diplomacy.  Pichegru,  with  the  Army  of  the  North,  had 
driven  the  invaders  from  French  soil  and  had  conquered  the  Austrian 
Netherlands.  Jourdan,  with  the  Army  of  the  Sambre  and  Meuse,  had 
defeated  the  Austrians  at  Fleurus  in  a  battle  decided  by  the  bravery  of 
Marceau,  thus  confii'ming  the  conquest.  Other  generals  were  likewise 
rising  to  eminence.  Hoche  had  in  1793  beaten  the  Austrians  under 
Wurmser  at  Weissenburg,  and  diiven  them  from  Alsace.  He  had  now 
further  heightened  his  fame  by  his  successes  against  the  insurgents 
of  the  West.  Saint-Cyr,  Bernadotte,  and  Kleber,  with  many  others  of 
Buonaparte's  contemporaries,  had  also  risen  to  distinction  in  minor  en- 
gagements. The  record  of  mihtary  energy  put  forth  by  the  hberated 
nation  under  Jacobin  rule  stands,  as  Fox  declared  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, absolutely  unique.  Twenty-seven  victories,  eight  in  pitched  bat- 
tle; one  hundred  and  twenty  fights;  ninety  thousand  prisoners;  one 
hundred  and  sixteen  towns  and  important  places  captured;  two  hundi-ed 
and  thirty  forts  or  redoubts  taken;  three  thousand  eight  hundred 
pieces  of  ordnance,  seventy  thousand  muskets,  one  thousand  tons  of 
powder,  and  ninety  standards  fallen  into  French  hands — such  is  the 
incredible  tale.  Moreover,  the  ai-my  had  been  pm'ged  with  as  httle 
mercy  as  a  mercantile  coi-poration  shows  to  incompetent  employees.  It 
is  often  claimed  that  the  armies  of  repubhcan  France  and  of  Napoleon 
were,  after  aU,  the  armies  of  the  Bom-bons.  Not  so.  The  conscription 
law,  though  very  imperfect  in  itseK,  was  supplemented  by  the  general 
enthusiasm ;  a  nation  was  now  in.  the  ranks  instead  of  hirelings ;  the 
reorganization  had  remodeled  the  whole  structure,  and  between  Jan- 
uary first,  1792,  and  January  twentieth,  1795,  one  hundred  and  ten  divi- 
sion commanders,  two  hundred  and  sixty-three  generals  of  brigade, 
and  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight  adjutant-generals  either  resigned, 


164 


LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25 


Chap.  XX  Were  Suspended  from  duty,  or  were  dismissed  from  tlie  sei-vice.  The 
1795       republic  had  new  leaders  and  new  men  in  its  armies. 

The  nation  had  apparently  determined  that  the  natural  boimdary  of 
France  and  of  its  own  revolutionary  system  was  the  Ehine.  Nice  and 
Savoy  would  round  out  theu-  territory  to  the  south.  This  much  the 
new  government,  it  was  understood,  would  conquer,  administer,  and 
keep;  the  Revolution  in  other  lands,  impelled  but  not  guided  by 
French  influence,  must  manage  its  own  affairs.  This  was,  of  course, 
an  entirely  new  diplomatic  situation.  Under  its  pressure  Holland,  by 
the  aid  of  Pichegru's  army,  became  the  Batavian  Republic,  and  ceded 
Dutch  Flanders  to  France ;  while  Prussia  abandoned  the  coahtion,  and 
in  the  treaty  of  Basel,  signed  on  April  fifth,  1795,  agreed  to  the  neu- 
trality of  all  north  Germany,  and  in  return  for  the  possessions  of  the 
ecclesiastical  princes  in  central  Grermany,  which  were  eventually  to  be 
secularized,  yielded  to  France  undisputed  possession  of  the  left  bank  of 
the  Rhine.  Spain,  Portugal,  and  the  httle  states  both  of  south  Ger- 
many and  of  Italy  were  all  alike  weary  of  the  contest,  the  more  so  as 
they  were  honeycombed  with  liberal  ideas.  They  were  already  prepar- 
ing to  desert  England  and  Austria,  the  great  powers  which  still  stood 
firm,  and,  with  the  exception  of  Portugal,  they  acceded  within  a  few 
weeks  to  the  terms  of  Basel.  Rome,  as  the  instigator  of  the  unyielding 
ecclesiastics  of  Vendee,  was,  of  course,  on  the  side  of  Great  Britain  and 
the  Empire. 

At  home  the  military  success  of  the  repubhc  was  for  a  httle  while 
equally  marked.  Before  the  close  of  1794  the  Breton  peasants  who, 
nnder  the  name  of  Chouans,  had  become  lawless  highwaymen  were  en- 
tirely crushed;  and  the  Enghsh  expedition  sent  to  Quiberon  in  the  fol- 
lowing year  to  revive  the  disorders  was  a  fizzle.  The  uisurrection  of 
Yendee  had  di-agged  stubbornly  on,  but  it  was  stamped  out  in  June, 
1795,  by  the  execution  of  over  seven  himdred  of  the  emigrants  who 
had  returned  on  English  vessels  to  fan  the  royalist  blaze  which  was 
kiddling  again. 

The  royalists,  having  created  the  panic  of  five  years  previous,  were 
not  now  to  be  outdone  even  by  the  Terror.  Charette,  the  Vendean 
leader,  retaliated  by  a  holocaust  of  two  thousand  republican  prisoners 
whom  he  had  taken.  After  the  events  of  Thermidor  the  Convention 
had  thrown  open  the  prison  doors,  put  an  end  to  bloodshed,  and  pro- 
claimed an  amnesty.     The  evident  power  of  the  Parisian  burghers,  the 


I 


DRAWDJO    MADK    KOB    THE    CKNTURY    CO. 


LOUIS-MARIE   DE   LAREVELLIERE-LEPEAUX 

MEMBER    OF    THE    DIRECTORY 


SKET'^H    BY    KBIC    PAI'K    FROM     TUB    PORTIt.UT    BY    FR.VN(;0I8    O^RAKD 


^T.25]  THE    ANTECHAMBER    TO    SUCCESS  165 

form  given  by  the  Girondists  to  the  new  constitution,  the  longing  of  chap.  xx 
all  for  peace  and  for  a  retiu'n  of  comfort  and  prosperity,  still  further  1795 
emboldened  the  royalists,  and  enabled  them  to  produce  a  wide- 
spread re-vailsion  of  feehug.  They  rose  in  many  parts  of  the  South, 
instituting  what  is  known  fi'om  the  colors  they  wore  as  the  "  White 
TeiTor,"  and  pitilessly  murdering,  in  the  desperation  of  timid  revenge, 
then'  imsuspecting  and  unready  neighbors  of  republican  opinions. 
The  scenes  enacted  were  more  ten-ible,  the  human  butchery  was  more 
bloody,  than  any  known  dm'ing  the  darkest  days  of  the  revolution- 
ary movement  in  Paris. 

The  Jacobins,  therefore,  in  view  of  so  dangerous  a  situation,  and 
not  without  some  reason,  had  determined  that  they  themselves  shoidd 
administer  the  new  constitution.  The  royalists  at  the  same  time  saw 
in  its  provisions  a  means  to  accomplish  theii"  ends;  and  relying  upon 
the  attitude  of  the  capital,  in  which  mob  and  burghers  alike  were 
angry,  determined  simultaneously  to  strike  a  blow  for  mastery,  and  to 
supplant  the  Jacobins.  Evidence  of  then*  activity  appeared  both  in 
mihtary  and  pohtical  circles.  Throughout  the  summer  of  1795  there 
was  an  xmaccouutable  languor  in  the  army.  It  was  beheved  that  Piche- 
gru  had  purposely  palsied  his  own  and  Jourdan's  abilities,  and  the 
needless  armistice  he  made  with  Austria  went  far  to  confirm  the  idea. 
It  was  afterward  proved  that  several  members  of  the  Convention  had 
been  in  communication  with  royahsts.  Among  their  agents  was  a 
personage  of  some  importance — a  certain  Aubry — who,  having  re- 
tui'ned  after  the  events  of  Thermidor,  never  disavowed  his  real  senti- 
ments as  a  royahst;  and  being  later  made  chairman  of  the  anny 
committee,  was  in  that  position  when  Buonaparte's  career  was  tempo- 
rarily checked  by  degi-adation  from  the  artillery  to  the  infantry.  For 
this  absurd  reason  he  was  long  but  unjustly  thought  to  have  also  caused 
the  original  transfer  to  the  West. 

The  Convention  was  vaguely  aware  of  aU  that  was  taking  place. 
Having  abolished  the  powerful  and  terrible  Committee  of  Safety,  which 
had  conducted  its  operations  with  such  success  as  attends  remorseless 
vigor,  it  was  found  necessary  on  August  ninth  to  reconstruct  something 
similar  to  meet  the  new  crisis.  At  the  same  time  the  spuit  of  the  hour 
was  propitiated  by  forming  sixteen  other  committees  to  control  the 
action  of  the  central  one.  Such  a  dispersion  of  executive  power  was  a 
virtual  paralysis  of  action.     The  constitution  was  adopted  a  fortnight 


166 


LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25 


Chap.  XX  later,  on  August  twenty-second.  Immediately  the  sections  of  Paris 
1795  began  to  display  ii-ritation  at  the  limitations  set  to  their  choice  of 
new  representatives.  They  had  many  sympathizers  in  the  provinces, 
and  the  extreme  reactionaries  from  the  Revolution  were  jubilant.  For- 
tunately for  France,  Carnot  was  temporarily  retained  to  control  the 
department  of  war.     He  was  not  removed  until  the  following  March. 

When  General  Buonaparte  reached  Paris,  and  went  to  dwell  in  the 
mean  and  shabby  lodgings  which  his  lean  purse  compelled  him  to 
choose,  he  found  the  city  strangely  metamorphosed.  Animated  by  a 
settled  purpose  not  to  accept  the  position  assigned  to  him  in  the  Army 
of  the  West,  and,  if  necessary,  to  defy  his  military  superiors,  his  hu- 
mor put  him  out  of  all  sympathy  with  the  prevalent  gaiety.  Bitter 
experience  had  taught  him  that  in  civil  war  the  consequences  of 
victory  and  defeat  are  aUke  inglorious.  In  the  fickleness  of  pubhc 
opinion  the  avenging  hero  of  to-day  may  easily  become  the  reprobated 
outctist  of  to-mon*ow.  What  reputation  he  had  gained  at  Toulon 
was  aheady  dissipated  in  part;  the  rest  might  easily  be  squandered 
entirely  in  Vendee.  He  felt  and  said  that  he  could  wait.  But  how 
about  his  daily  bread? 

The  drawing-rooms  of  Paris  had  opened  hke  magic  before  the 
"sesame"  of  Thermidor  and  the  prospects  of  settled  order  under  the 
Directory.  There  were  visiting,  dining,  and  dancing;  dressing,  flirta- 
tion, and  intrigue;  walking,  driving,  and  riding — aU  the  avocations  of 
a  people  soured  with  the  cruel  and  bloody  past,  and  reasserting  its 
native  passion  for  pleasm-e  and  refinement.  The  morahty  of  the  hour 
was  no  better  than  the  old;  for  there  was  a  strange  mixture  of  elements 
in  this  new  society;  the  men  in  power  were  of  every  class — a  few  of 
the  old  aristocracy,  many  of  the  wealthy  burghers,  a  certain  propor- 
tion of  the  colonial  nabobs  from  the  West  Indies  and  elsewhere,  ad- 
venturers of  every  stripe,  a  few  even  of  the  city  populace,  and  some 
country  common  folk.  The  ingredients  of  this  queer  hodgepodge  had 
yet  to  learn  one  another's  language  and  natui-e ;  the  niceties  of  speech, 
gesture,  and  mien  which  once  had  a  well-understood  significance  in 
government  chicles  were  all  to  be  readjusted  in  accordance  with  the 
ideas  of  the  motley  crowd  and  given  new  conventional  cuiTcncy.  In 
such  a  disorderly  transition  vice  does  not  requu-e  the  mask  of  hypoc- 
risy, virtue  is  helpless  because  unorganized,  and  something  hke  riot 
characterizes  conduct.     The  soimd  and  rugged  goodness  of  many  new- 


JEt.25]  the    antechamber    TO    SUCCESS  167 

comers,  the  habitual  respeetabihty  of  the  veterans,  were  for  the  moment    chap.  xx 
alike  inactive  because  not  yet  kneaded  into  the  lump  they  had  to  leaven.        1795 

There  was,  nevertheless,  a  mai-velous  exhibition  of  social  power  in 
this  heterogeneous  mass :  nothing  of  course  proportionate  in  extent  to 
what  had  been  brought  forth  for  national  defense,  but  still  of  almost, 
if  not  entu-ely,  equal  significance.  Throughout  the  revolutionary'  epoch 
there  had  been  much  discussion  concerning  refonns  in  education.  It 
was  in  1794  that  Monge  finally  succeeded  in  foimding  the  gi'eat  Poly- 
technic School,  an  institution  which  clearly  corresponded  to  a  national 
characteristic,  since  from  that  day  it  has  strengthened  the  natural  bias 
of  the  French  toward  apphed  science,  and  tempted  them  to  the  undue 
and  unfortunate  neglect  of  many  important  hiimanizing  disciplines. 
The  Conservatory  of  Music  and  the  Institute  were  permanently  reor- 
ganized soon  after.  The  great  collections  of  the  Museum  of  Arts  and 
Crafts  (Conservatou'e  des  Arts  et  Metiers)  were  begim,  and  permanent 
lecture  courses  were  founded  in  connection  with  the  National  Libraiy, 
the  Botanical  Garden,  the  Medical  School,  and  other  learned  institu- 
tions. Almost  immediately  a  philosophical  hterature  began  to  appear ; 
pictures  were  painted,  and  the  theaters  reopened  with  new  and  tolerable 
pieces  written  for  the  day  and  place.  In  the  very  midst  of  war,  more- 
over, an  attempt  was  made  to  emancipate  the  press.  The  effort  was  ill 
advised,  and  the  results  were  so  deplorable  for  the  conduct  of  affairs 
that  the  newspapers  were  in  the  event  more  firmly  muzzled  than  ever. 

When  Buonaparte  had  made  his  hving  arrangements,  and  began 
to  look  about,  he  must  have  been  stupefied  by  the  hatred  of  the 
Convention  so  generally  and  openly  manifested  on  every  side.  The 
provinces  had  looked  upon  the  Revolution  as  accomphshed.  Paris 
was  evidently  in  such  ill  humor  with  the  body  which  represented  it 
that  the  repubhc  was  to  all  appearance  virtually  undone.  "Reelect 
two  thirds  of  the  Convention  members  to  the  new  legislature ! "  said 
the  angry  demagogues  of  the  Paris  sections.  "Never!  Those  men 
who,  by  their  own  confession,  have  for  three  years  in  all  these  hoiTors 
been  the  cowardly  tools  of  a  sentiment  they  could  not  restrain,  but  are 
now  seK-styled  and  reformed  moderates !  Impossible ! "  Whether 
bribed  by  foreign  gold,  and  working  under  the  influence  of  royahsts, 
or  by  reason  of  the  famine,  or  thi"ough  the  determination  of  the  weU- 
to-do  to  have  a  radical  change,  or  from  all  these  influences  combined, 
the  sections  were  gradually  organizing  for  resistance,  and  it  was  soon 


H^g  LIFE    OP   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [Mi.  25 

Chap.  XX  clear  that  tlie  National  Guard  was  in  sympathy  with  them.  The  Con- 
1795  vention  was  equally  alert,  and  began  to  ann  for  the  conflict.  They 
already  had  several  hundred  artillerymen  and  five  thousand  regulars 
who  were  imbued  with  the  national  rather  than  the  local  spirit ;  they 
now  began  to  enhst  a  special  guard  of  fifteen  hundred  from  the  desperate 
men  who  had  been  the  trusty  followers  of  Hebert  and  Robespierre. 

For  a  month  or  more  Buonaparte  was  a  mere  onlooker,  or  at  most 
an  interested  examiner  of  events,  weighing  and  speculating  in  ob- 
scurity much  as  he  had  done  three  years  before.  The  war  department 
Hstened  to  and  granted  his  earnest  request  that  he  might  remain  in 
Paris  until  a  general  reassignment  of  officers,  which  had  been  determined 
upon,  and,  as  his  good  fortune  would  have  it,  was  already  in  progress, 
should  be  completed.  As  the  first  weeks  passed,  news  arrived  from  the 
south  of  a  reaction  in  favor  of  the  Jacobins.  It  became  clearer  every 
day  that  the  Convention  had  moral  suppoi-t  beyond  the  ramparts  of 
Paris,  and  within  the  city  it  was  possible  to  maintain  something  in 
the  natm'e  of  a  Jacobin  salon.  Many  of  that  faith  who  were  disaf- 
fected with  the  new  conditions  in  Paris — the  Corsicans  in  particular — 
were  welcomed  at  the  home  of  Mme.  Permon  by  herself  and  her  beau- 
tiful daughter,  afterward  Mme.  Junot  and  Duchess  of  Abrantes.  Sah- 
cetti  had  chosen  the  other  child,  a  son  now  gi'own,  as  his  private  sec- 
retary, and  was  of  course  a  special  favorite  in  the  house.  The  first 
manifestation  of  reviving  Jacobin  confidence  was  shown  in  the  attack 
made  on  May  twentieth  upon  the  Convention  by  hungiy  rioters  who 
shouted  for  the  constitution  of  1793,  and  were  assisted  in  creating  dis- 
order by  the  radical  members.  The  tumult  was  queUed  by  the  courage 
and  presence  of  mind  shown  by  Boissy  d'Anglas,  a  calm  and  deter- 
mined moderate,  who  had  been  commissioned  to  act  alone  in  provi- 
sioning Paris,  and  bravely  accepted  his  responsibihty  by  mounting  the 
president's  chau-  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult.  The  mob  brandished  in 
his  face  the  bloody  head  of  Feraud,  a  fellow-member  of  his  whom  they 
had  just  murdered.  The  chairman  uncovered  his  head  in  respect,  and 
his  tmdaunted  mien  cowed  the  leaders,  who  slunk  away,  followed  by 
the  rabble.  The  consequence  was  a  total  annihilation  of  the  Mountain 
on  May  twenty-second.  The  Convention  committees  were  disbanded, 
their  artillerymen  were  temporarily  dismissed,  and  the  constitution  of 
1793  was  aboUshed, 

The  friendly  home  of  Mme.  Permon  was  almost  the  only  resort  of 


UKAWINll    MMiK    Kiill    'Illl-;    (.LNTfltY    CO. 


FELICE    PASQUALE    BACCIOCCHI 

PRINCE   OF    LUCCA   AND    PIOMBINO,   GRAND    DUKE   OF  TUSCANY 


DRAWING     BY    EUlU    PAPK     FROM    TbK    PORTRAIT    IN    THK    MU8KUM    OV    AJACCIO,    CORSICA 


.St.  25]  THE    ANTECHAMBER    TO    SUCCESS  169 

Buonaparte,  who,  though  disiEusioned,  was  still  a  Jacobin.  Something  chap,  xx 
hke  desperation  appeared  in  his  manner;  the  lack  of  proper  food  1795 
emaciated  his  fi'ame,  while  uncertainty  as  to  the  future  left  its  mark  on 
his  wan  face  and  in  his  restless  eyes.  It  was  not  astonisliing,  for  his 
personal  and  family  affairs  were  apparently  hopeless.  His  brothers, 
hke  himself,  had  now  been  deprived  of  profitable  employment ;  they, 
with  him,  might  possibly  and  even  probably  soon  be  numbered  among 
the  suspects ;  destitute  of  a  powerfid  patron,  and  with  his  family  once 
more  in  actual  want.  Napoleon  was  scarcely  fit  m  either  garb  or  himior 
for  the  society  even  of  his  friends.  His  hostess  described  him  as  hav- 
ing "  sharp,  angular  features ;  small  hands,  long  and  thin ;  liis  hair 
long  and  disheveled ;  without  gloves ;  wearing  badly  made,  badly  pol- 
ished shoes ;  having  always  a  sickly  appearance,  which  was  the  result 
of  his  lean  and  yeUow  complexion,  brightened  only  by  two  eyes  glisten- 
ing with  shrewdness  and  fiimness."  Bom'rienne,  who  had  now  retm-ned 
from  diplomatic  service,  was  not  edified  by  the  appearance  or  temper 
of  his  acquaintance,  who,  he  says,  "  was  ill  clad  and  slovenly,  his  char- 
acter cold,  often  inscrutable.  His  smile  was  hoUow  and  often  out  of 
place.  He  had  moments  of  fierce  gaiety  which  made  you  uneasy,  and 
indisposed  to  love  him." 

No  wonder  the  man  was  ill  at  ease.  His  worst  fears  were  reahzed 
when  the  influence  of  the  Mountain  was  wiped  out, —  Carnot,  the 
organizer  of  victory,  as  he  had  been  styled,  being  the  only  one  of  all 
the  old  leaders  to  escape.  Salicetti  was  too  prominent  a  partizan  to  be 
overlooked  by  the  angiy  burghers.  For  a  time  he  was  concealed  by 
Mme.  Permon  in  her  Paris  home.  He  escaped  the  vengeance  of  his 
enemies  in  the  disguise  of  her  lackey,  flying  with  her  when  she  left  for 
the  south  to  seek  refuge  for  herself  and  children.  Even  the  rank  and 
file  among  the  members  of  the  Moimtain  either  fled  or  were  ari'ested. 
That  Buonaparte  was  unmolested  appears  to  prove  how  cleverly  he 
had  concealed  his  connection  with  them.  The  story  that  in  these  days 
he  proposed  for  the  hand  of  Mme.  Permon,  though  without  any  corrob- 
orative evidence,  has  an  air  of  probabihty,  partly  in  the  consideration  of 
a  despair  which  might  lead  him  to  seek  any  support,  even  that  of  a 
wife  as  old  as  his  mother,  partly  from  the  existence  of  a  letter  to  the 
lady  which,  though  enigmatical,  displays  an  interesting  mixture  of 
wounded  pride  and  real  or  pretended  jealousy.  The  epistle  is  dated 
June  eighteenth,  1795.     He  felt  that  she  would  think  him  duped,  he 


170 


LIFE  OP  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t. 


Chap.  XX  explains,  if  he  did  not  inform  her  that  although  she  had  not  seen  fit  to 
1795  trive  her  confidence  to  him,  he  had  all  along  known  that  she  had  Sah- 
cetti  in  hiding.  Then  follows  an  address  to  that  countryman,  evidently 
intended  to  clear  the  writer  from  all  taint  of  Jacobinism,  and  couched 
in  these  terms:  "I  could  have  denounced  thee,  hut  did  not,  although 
it  would  have  been  but  a  just  revenge  so  to  do.  Which  has  chosen  the 
truer  part  ?  Go,  seek  in  peace  an  asylum  where  thou  canst  return  to 
better  thoughts  of  thy  countiy.  My  Ups  shall  never  utter  thy  name. 
Repent,  and  above  all,  appreciate  my  motives.  This  I  deserve,  for  they 
are  noble  and  generous."  In  these  words  to  the  political  refugee  he 
employs  the  familiar  repubhcan  "  thou  " ;  in  the  peroration,  addressed, 
like  the  introduction,  to  the  lady  herself,  he  recurs  to  the  polite  and 
distant  "you."  "Mme.  Permon,  my  good  wishes  go  with  you  as 
with  your  child.  You  are  two  feeble  creatures  with  no  defense.  May 
Providence  and  the  prayers  of  a  friend  be  with  you.  Above  all,  be 
prudent  and  never  remain  in  the  large  cities.  Adieu.  Accept  my 
friendly  greetings." 

The  meaning  of  this  missive  is  recondite ;  perhaps  it  is  this :  Mme. 
Permon,  I  loved  you,  and  could  have  ruined  the  rival  who  is  your  pro- 
tege with  a  clear  conscience,  for  he  once  did  me  foul  wrong,  as  he  will 
acknowledge.  But  farewell.  I  bear  you  no  grudge.  Or  else  it  may 
announce  another  change  in  the  pohtical  weather  by  the  veering  of  the 
cock.  As  a  good  citizen,  despising  the  horrors  of  the  past,  I  could  have 
denounced  you,  Sahcetti.  I  did  not,  for  I  recalled  old  times  and  your 
helplessness,  and  wished  to  heap  coals  of  fire  on  your  head,  that  you 
might  see  the  error  of  your  way.  The  latter  interpretation  finds  sup- 
port in  the  complete  renunciation  of  Jacobinism  which  the  wi-iter  made 
soon  afterward,  and  in  his  subsequent  labored  explanation  that  in  the 
"  Supper  of  Beaucaire  "  he  had  not  identified  himself  with  the  Jacobin 
soldier,  but  had  wished  only  by  a  dispassionate  presentation  of  facts  to 
show  the  hopeless  case  of  Marseilles,  and  to  prevent  useless  bloodshed. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BONAPARTE   THE   GENERAL   OF   THE   CONVENTION 
DlSAPPODJTMENTS — ANOTHER   FURLOUGH — CONNECTION  WITH    BaRRAS — 

Official  Society  in  Paris — Bonaparte  as  a  Beau — Condition  of 
His  Family — A  Political  General — An  Opening  in  Turkey — 
Opportunities  in  Europe — Social  Advancement — Official  Deg- 
radation— Schemes  for  Restoration — Plans  of  the  Royalists 
— The  Hostility  of  Paris  to  the  Convention — Bonaparte, 
General  of  the  Convention  Troops — His  Strategy. 

THE  overhauling  of  the  army  hst  with  the  subsequent  reassignment  chap.  xxi 
of  officers  turned  out  ill  for  Buonaparte.  Aubiy,  the  head  of  the  1795 
committee,  appears  to  have  been  utterly  indifferent  to  him,  displaying 
no  iU  will,  and  certainly  no  active  good  will,  toward  the  sometime 
Jacobia,  whose  name,  moreover,  was  last  on  the  list  of  artillery  officers 
in  the  order  of  seniority.  According  to  the  regulations,  when  one  arm 
of  the  service  was  overmanned,  the  superfluous  officers  were  to  be 
transferred  to  another.  This  was  now  the  case  with  the  artillery,  and 
Buonaparte,  as  a  supernumerary,  was  on  June  thu-teenth  again  ordered 
to  the  West,  but  this  time  only  as  a  mere  infantry  general  of  brigade. 
He  appears  to  have  felt  throughout  Ufe  more  vindictiveness  toward 
Aubry,  the  man  whom  he  beheved  to  have  been  the  author  of  this  par- 
ticular misfortune,  than  toward  any  other  person  with  whom  he  ever 
came  ia  contact.  In  this  rigid  scrutiny  of  the  army  Hst,  exaggerated 
pretensions  of  service  and  untruthful  testimonials  were  no  longer  ac- 
cepted. For  this  reason  Joseph  also  had  already  lost  his  position,  and 
was  about  to  settle  with  his  family  in  Genoa,  while  Louis  was  actually 
sent  back  to  school,  being  ordered  to  Chalons.  Poor  Lucien,  over- 
whelmed in  the  general  ruin  of  the  radicals,  and  with  a  wife  and  child 

171 


JY2  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25-26 

Chap.  XXI    dependent  on  him,  was  in  despair.     The  other  members  of  the  family 
1795       were  temporarily  destitute,  but  self -helpful. 

In  this  there  was  nothing  new ;  but,  for  all  that,  the  monotony  of 
the  situation  must  have  been  disheartening.  Napoleon's  resolution 
was  soon  taken.  He  was  either  really  ill  fi'om  privation  and  disap- 
pointment, or  soon  became  so.  Ai-med  with  a  medical  certificate,  he 
apphed  for  and  received  a  furlough.  This  step  having  been  taken,  the 
next,  according  to  the  unchanged  and  familiar  instincts  of  the  man, 
was  to  apply  under  the  law  for  mileage  to  pay  his  expenses  on  the  jour- 
ney which  he  had  taken  as  far  as  Paris  in  pursuance  of  the  order  given 
him  on  March  twenty-ninth  to  proceed  to  his  post  in  the  West.  Again, 
following  the  precedents  of  his  life,  he  calculated  mileage  not  from 
Marseilles,  whence  he  had  really  started,  but  from  Nice,  thus  largely  in- 
creasing the  amount  which  he  asked  for,  and  in  due  time  received. 
During  his  leave  several  projects  occupied  his  busy  brain.  The 
most  important  were  a  speculation  in  the  sequestered  lands  of  the 
emigrants  and  monasteries,  and  the  writing  of  two  monographs — 
one  a  history  of  events  from  the  ninth  of  Fructidor,  year  II  (August 
twenty-sixth,  1794),  to  the  beginning  of  year  IV  (September  twenty- 
third,  1795),  the  other  a  memoir  on  the  Army  of  Italy.  The  first  no- 
tion was  doubtless  due  to  a  fi*enzy  for  speculation,  then  rife,  which 
was  comparable  only  to  that  which  prevailed  in  France  at  the  time 
of  Law's  Mississippi  scheme  or  in  England  during  the  South  Sea 
Bubble.  It  affords  an  insight  into  financial  conditions  to  know  that 
a  gold  piece  of  twenty  francs  was  worth  seven  hundi'ed  and  fifty 
in  paper.  A  project  for  purchasing  a  certain  property  as  a  good  in- 
vestment for  his  wife's  dowry  was  submitted  to  Joseph,  but  it  failed 
by  the  sudden  repeal  of  the  law  under  which  such  purchases  were 
made.  The  two  themes  were  both  finished,  and  another,  "  A  Study  in 
Pontics :  being  an  Inquity  into  the  Causes  of  Troubles  and  Discords," 
was  sketched,  but  never  completed.  The  memou*  on  the  Army  of 
Italy  was  virtually  the  scheme  for  offensive  warfare  which  he  had  laid 
before  the  younger  Eobespierre ;  it  was  now  revised,  and  sent  to  the 
highest  military  power  —  the  new  central  committee  appointed  as  a 
substitute  for  the  Committee  of  Safety.  These  occupations  were 
aU  very  well,  but  the  furlough  was  rapidly  expiring,  and  nothing  had 
turned  up.  Most  opportunely,  the  invahd  had  a  relapse,  and  was 
able  to  secure  an  extension  of  leave  until  August  fourth,  the  date  on 


IM  Till-.    UULLI-,i;UL.\   ur   M'    tuMu; 


MARIE-JOSEPHE-ROSE   TASCHER    DE    LA    PAGERIE,    CALLED    JOSEPHINE, 
EMPRESS    OE   THE    FRENCH. 

FHOM  THE    DESIGN  DY  JEAN-BAI'TISTE  ISABKY    ^^ESl:II.  UllAWINr,   nF-TOlCIfE D    IN    WAIEII  (01  CHi   MAl.K    IN  1*08. 


^T.  25-26]        BONAPARTE    THE    GENERAL    OF    THE    CONVENTION  173 

which  a  third  of  the  committee  on  the  reassignment  of  officers  would  chap.  xxi 
retire,  among  them  the  hated  Aubry,  1795 

Speakmg  at  St.  Helena  of  these  days,  he  said :  "  I  Hved  in  the  Paris 
streets  without  employment.  I  had  no  social  habits,  going  only  into 
the  set  at  the  house  of  Bairas,  where  I  was  well  received.  ...  I  was 
there  because  there  was  nothmg  to  be  had  elsewhere.  I  attached  my- 
self to  BaiTas  because  I  knew  no  one  else.  Robespierre  was  dead; 
Barras  was  playing  a  role :  I  had  to  attach  myself  to  somebody  and 
something." 

It  will  not  be  forgotten  that  Barras  and  Freron  had  been  Danton- 
ists  when  they  were  at  the  siege  of  Toulon  with  Buonaparte.  After 
the  events  of  Thermidor  they  had  forsworn  Jacobinism  altogether,  and 
were  at  present  in  alliance  with  the  moderate  elements  of  Paris  society. 
Barras's  rooms  in  the  Luxembourg  were  the  center  of  all  that  was  gay 
and  dazzUng  in  that  coiTupt  and  careless  world.  They  were,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  the  resort  of  the  most  beautiful  and  brilliant  women,  in- 
fluential, but  not  over-scrupulous.  Mme.  TalHen,  who  has  been  called 
"  the  goddess  of  Thermidor,"  was  the  queen  of  the  coterie ;  scarcely 
less  beautiful  and  gracious  were  the  widow  Beauhamais  and  Mme. 
Recamier.  Barras  had  been  a  noble;  the  instincts  of  his  class  made 
him  a  dehghtful  host. 

What  Napoleon  saw  and  experienced  he  wi-ote  to  the  faithful  Joseph. 
The  letters  are  a  truthful  transcript  of  his  emotions,  the  key-note 
of  which  is  admiration  for  the  Paris  women.  "  Carriages  and  the 
gay  world  appear,  or  rather  suggest  as  after  a  long  dream  that  they 
have  ever  ceased  to  ghtter.  Readings,  lecture  coiu'ses  iu  history, 
botany,  astronomy,  etc.,  follow  one  another.  Everything  is  here  col- 
lected to  amuse  and  render  hfe  agreeable ;  you  are  taken  out  of  your 
thoughts ;  how  can  you  have  the  blues  iu  this  intensity  of  pm'pose  and 
whMing  tui'moil?  The  women  are  everywhere,  at  the  play,  on  the 
promenades,  in  the  hbraries.  In  the  scholar's  study  you  find  very 
charmiug  persons.  Here  only  of  all  places  in  the  world  they  deserve 
to  hold  the  helm :  the  men  are  mad  about  them,  think  only  of  them, 
and  Hve  only  by  means  of  their  influence.  A  woman  needs  six  months 
in  Paris  to  know  what  is  her  due  and  what  is  her  sphere."  As  yet  he 
had  not  met  Mme.  Beauharnais.  The  whole  tone  of  the  correspon- 
dence is  cheerful,  and  indicates  that  Buonaparte's  efforts  for  a  new  aUi- 
ance  had  been  successful,  that  his  fortunes  were  looking  up,  and  that 


174 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25-20 


Chap.  XXI  tlio  giddy  world  contained  something  of  uncommon  interest.  As  Ms 
1795  fortunes  improved,  he  grew  more  hopeful,  and  appeared  more  in 
society.  On  occasion  he  even  ventm-ed  upon  httle  gallantries.  Pre- 
sented to  Mme.  Talhen,  he  was  frequently  seen  at  her  receptions.  He 
was  at  first  shy  and  reserved,  but  time  and  custom  put  him  more  at  his 
ease.  One  evening,  as  httle  groups  were  gi-adually  formed  for  the  in- 
terchange of  jest  and  repartee,  he  seemed  to  lose  his  timidity  altogether, 
and,  assuming  the  mien  of  a  fortune-teller,  caught  his  hostess's  hand, 
and  poured  out  a  long  rigmarole  of  nonsense  which  much  amused  the 
rest  of  the  circle. 

These  months  had  also  improved  the  situation  of  the  family.  His 
mother  and  younger  sisters  were  somehow  more  comfortable  in  their 
Marseilles  home.  Strange  doings  were  afterward  charged  against 
them,  but  it  is  probable  that  these  stories  are  without  other  foundation 
than  spite.  Napoleon  had  received  a  considerable  sum  for  mileage, 
nearly  twenty-seven  hundred  francs,  and,  good  son  as  he  always  was,  it 
is  likely  that  he  shared  the  money  with  his  family.  Both  Ehsa  and  the 
httle  Pauhne  now  had  suitors.  Fesch,  described  by  Lucien  as  "ever 
fresh,  not  hke  a  rose,  but  hke  a  good  radish,"  was  comfortably  waiting  . 
at  Aix  in  the  house  of  old  acquaintances  for  a  chance  to  return  to  Coi'- 
sica.  Joseph's  arrangements  for  moving  to  Genoa  were  nearly  com- 
plete, and  Louis  was  comfortably  settled  at  school  in  Chalons.  "Brutus" 
Lucien  was  the  only  luckless  wight  of  the  number :  his  fears  had  been 
realized,  and,  having  been  denounced  as  a  Jacobin,  he  was  now  lying 
terror-stricken  in  the  prison  of  Aix,  when  all  about  him  men  of  his 
stripe  were  being  executed. 

On  August  fifth  the  members  of  the  new  Committee  of  Safety 
finally  entered  on  their  duties.  Almost  the  first  docimient  pre- 
sented at  the  meeting  was  Buonaparte's  demand  for  restoration  to 
his  rank  in  the  artillery.  It  rings  with  indignation,  and  abounds  with 
loose  statements  about  his  past  services,  boldly  claiming  the  honors  of 
the  last  short  but  successful  Itahan  campaign.  The  paper  was  refen-ed 
to  the  proper  authorities,  and,  a  fortnight  later,  its  writer  received  per- 
emptory orders  to  join  his  corps  in  the  West.  What  could  be  more 
amusingly  characteristic  of  this  persistent  man  than  to  read,  in  a  letter 
to  Joseph  under  date  of  the  following  day,  August  twentieth:  "I  am 
attached  at  this  moment  to  the  topographical  bm-eau  of  the  Committee 
of  Safety  for  the  direction  of  the  armies  m  Carnot's  place.     If  I  wish, 


^T.  25-26]        BONAPARTE    THE    GENERAL    OF    THE    CONVENTION  175 

I  can  be  sent  to  Tui'key  by  the  government  as  general  of  artillery,  Chap,  xxi 
with  a  good  salaiy  and  a  splendid  title,  to  organize  the  artilleiy  of  the  i795 
Grand  Tui-k."  Then  follow  plans  for  Joseph's  appointment  to  the 
consular  service,  for  a  meeting  at  Leghorn,  and  for  a  further  land  spec- 
ulation. At  the  close  are  these  remarks,  which  not  only  exliibit  great 
acuteness  of  observation,  but  are  noteworthy  as  displaying  a  permanent 
quality  of  the  man,  that  of  always  having  an  alternative  in  readiness: 
"It  is  quiet,  but  storms  are  gathering,  perhaps;  the  primaries  are  going 
to  meet  in  a  few  days.  I  shall  take  with  me  five  or  six  officers.  ,  .  . 
The  commission  and  decree  of  the  Committee  of  Safety,  which  employs 
me  in  the  duty  of  directing  the  armies  and  plans  of  campaign,  being 
most  flattering  to  me,  I  fear  they  will  no  longer  allow  me  to  go  to  Tur- 
key. We  shall  see.  I  may  have  on  hand  a  campaign  to-day.  .  .  . 
Write  always  as  if  I  were  going  to  Tm'key." 

This  was  all  half  true.  By  dint  of  soliciting  Barras  and  Doulcet  de 
Pontecoulant,  another  well-wisher,  both  men  of  influence,  and  by  impor- 
tuning Freron,  then  at  the  height  of  his  power,  but  soon  to  display  a 
ruinous  incapacity,  Buonaparte  had  actually  been  made  a  member  of 
the  commission  of  four  which  directed  the  armies,  and  Dutot  had  been 
sent  in  his  stead  to  the  West.  Moreover,  there  was  likewise  a  chance 
for  realizing  those  dreams  of  achieving  glory  in  the  Orient  which  had 
haunted  him  from  childhood.  At  this  moment  there  was  a  serious  ten- 
sion in  the  pohtics  of  eastern  Europe,  and  the  French  saw  an  opportu- 
nity to  strike  Austria  on  the  other  side  by  an  alhance  with  Turkey. 
The  latter  country  was  of  course  entirely  unprepared  for  war,  and  asked 
for  the  appointment  of  a  French  commission  to  reconstruct  its  gun- 
foundries  and  to  improve  its  artillery  service.  Buonaparte,  having 
learned  the  fact,  had  immediately  prepared  two  memorials,  one  on  the 
Turkish  artillery,  and  another  on  the  means  of  strengthening  Turkish 
power  against  the  encroachments  of  European  monarchies.  These  he 
sent  up  vrith  an  apphcation  that  he  should  be  appointed  head  of  the 
commission,  inclosing  also  laudatory  certificates  of  his  uncommon  abil- 
ity from  Doulcet  and  from  Debry,  a  newly  made  friend. 

But  the  vista  of  an  Eastern  career  temporarily  vanished.  The  new 
constitution,  adopted,  as  ah-eady  stated,  on  August  twenty-second,  could 
not  become  operative  until  after  the  elections.  On  August  thirty-first 
Buonaparte's  plan  for  the  conduct  of  the  coming  Italian  campaign  was 
read  by  the  Convention  committee,  found  satisfactory,  and  adopted.    It 


176 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25-20 


Chap.  XXI  remains  m  mauy  respects  the  greatest  of  all  Napoleon's  military  papers, 
1795  its  only  fault  being  that  no  genius  inferior  to  his  own  could  carry  it 
out.  A  few  days  later  he  became  aware  of  the  impression  he  had 
made:  it  seemed  clear  that  he  had  a  reality  in  hand  worth  every 
possibihty  in  the  Orient.  He  therefore  wrote  to  Joseph  that  he  was 
going  to  remain  in  Paris,  explaining,  as  if  incidentally,  that  he  could 
thus  be  on  the  lookout  for  any  desu-able  vacancy  in  the  consular  ser- 
vice, and  secm*e  it,  if  possible,  for  him. 

Dreams  of  another  kind  had  supplanted  in  his  mind  all  visions  of 
Oi-iental  splendor;  for  in  subsequent  letters  to  the  same  correspondent, 
wiitten  almost  daily,  he  unfolds  a  series  of  rather  startling  schemes, 
which  among  other  things  include  a  mamage,  a  town  house,  and  a 
country  residence,  with  a  cabriolet  and  three  horses.  How  all  this 
was  to  come  about  we  cannot  entirely  discover.  The  maniage  plan 
is  clearly  stated.  Joseph  had  wedded  one  of  the  daughters  of  a  com- 
paratively wealthy  merchant.  He  was  requested  to  sound  his  brother- 
in-law  concemuig  the  other,  the  famous  Desu'ee  Clary,  who  afterward 
became  Mme.  Bemadotte.  Two  of  the  horses  were  to  be  supphed  by 
the  government  in  place  of  a  pair  which  he  might  be  supposed  to  have 
possessed  at  Nice  in  accordance  with  the  rank  he  then  held,  and  to 
have  sold,  according  to  orders,  when  sent  on  the  maritime  expedition 
to  Corsica.  Where  the  third  horse  and  the  money  for  the  houses  were 
.  to  come  from  is  inscrutable ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  Napoleon  had  al- 
ready left  his  shabby  lodgings  for  better  ones  in  Michodiere  street,  and 
was  actually  negotiating  for  the  purchase  of  a  handsome  detached  resi- 
dence near  that  of  Bomiienne,  whose  fortunes  had  also  been  retrieved. 
The  country-seat  which  the  speculator  had  in  view,  and  for  which  he 
intended  to  bid  as  high  as  a  million  and  a  half  of  francs,  was  knocked 
down  to  another  purchaser  for  three  millions  or,  as  the  price  of  gold 
then  was,  about  forty  thousand  dollars !  So  gi'eat  a  personage  must,  of 
course,  have  a  secretary,  and  the  faithful  Junot  had  been  appointed  to 
the  of&ce. 

The  application  for  the  horses  turned  out  a  serious  matter,  and 
brought  the  adventin-er  once  more  to  the  verge  of  ruin.  The  story 
he  told  was  not  plain,  the  records  did  not  substantiate  it,  the  hard- 
headed  officials  of  the  war  department  evidently  did  not  believe  a 
syllable  of  his  representations,— which,  in  fact,  were  untruthful,— and, 
the  central  committee  having  again  lost  a  thh'd  of  its  members  by  ro- 


NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 

GENERAL-IN-CHIEF   OF  THE  ARMY    OF    ITALY 


IB.™    THF:    P.MSTlN.l    »V    JK.AN-SBIIASTIKN    KOHI 


l.I.AKl..       I-AINTKI.    IS    193U 


I 


^T.  25-2G]       BONAPARTE    THE    GENERAL    OF    THE    CONVENTION  177 

tatiou,  amoug  them  Doiilcet,  there  was  no  one  now  hi  it  to  plead  Buo-  chap.  xxi 
naparte's  cause.  Accordingly  there  was  no  httle  talk  about  the  matter  i"95 
in  very  influential  circles,  and  almost  simultaneously  was  issued  the 
report  concerning  his  formal  request  for  restoration,  which  had  been 
delayed  by  the  routine  prescribed  in  such  cases,  and  was  only  now  com- 
pleted. It  was  not  only  adverse  in  itseK,  but  contained  a  confidential 
inclosm*e  animadverting  severely  on  the  iiTegidarities  of  the  petitioner's 
conduct,  and  in  particular  on  his  stubborn  refusal  to  obey  orders  and 
join  the  AiTay  of  the  West.  Thus  it  happened  that  on  September  fif- 
teenth the  name  of  Buonaparte  was  officially  struck  fi-om  the  hst  of 
general  officers  on  duty,  "  in  view  of  his  refusal  to  proceed  to  the  post 
assigned  him."  It  really  appeared  as  if  the  name  of  Napoleon  might 
almost  have  been  substituted  for  that  of  Tantalus  in  the  fable.  But  it 
was  the  irony  of  fate  that  on  this  very  day  the  subcommittee  on  foreign 
affairs  submitted  to  the  full  meeting  a  proposition  to  send  the  man 
who  was  now  a  disgraced  culprit  in  gi'eat  state  and  with  a  full  suite  to 
take  service  at  Constantinople  in  the  amiy  of  the  Grand  Tui'k ! 

No  one  had  ever  imderstood  better  than  Buonaparte  the  possibih- 
ties  of  pohtical  influence  in  a  military  career.  Not  only  could  he  bend 
the  bow  of  AchiUes,  but  he  always  had  ready  an  extra  string.  Thus 
far  in  his  ten  years  of  service  he  had  been  promoted  only  once  accord- 
ing to  routine ;  the  other  steps  of  the  height  which  he  had  reached  had 
been  secured  by  iufluence  or  chicane.  He  had  been  first  Corsican  and 
then  French,  first  a  pohtician  and  then  a  soldier.  Such  a  veteran  was 
not  to  be  dismayed  even  by  the  most  stunniug  blow ;  had  he  not  even 
now  three  powerful  protectors — Barras,  TaUien,  and  Freron  ?  He 
turned  his  back,  therefore,  with  ready  adaptability  on  the  unsympa- 
thetic officials  of  the  army,  the  mere  soldiers  with  cool  heads  and 
merciless  judgment.  The  evident  short  cut  to  restoration  was  to  carry 
through  the  project  of  employment  at  Constantraople ;  it  had  been 
formally  recommended,  and  to  secure  its  adoption  he  renewed  his  im- 
portimate  sohcitations.  His  rank  he  stiU  held ;  he  might  hope  to  re- 
gain position  by  some  brilUant  stroke  such  as  he  could  execute  only 
without  the  restraint  of  orders  and  on  his  own  initiative.  His  hopes 
grew,  or  seemed  to,  as  his  suit  was  not  rejected,  and  he  wi'ote  to 
Joseph  on  September  twenty-sixth  that  the  matter  of  his  departure 
was  urgent ;  adding,  however :  "  But  at  this  moment  there  are  some 
ebulhtions  and  incendiary  symptoms."    He  was  right  in  both  surmises. 


178 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25-26 


Chap.  XXI  The  Committee  of  Safety  was  formally  considering  the  proposition  for 
1795  bis  transfer  to  the  Sultan's  service,  while  simultaneously  affaii-s  both  in 
Paris  and  on  the  frontiers  alike  were  "boiling." 

Meantime  the  royaUsts  and  clericals  had  not  been  idle.  They  had 
learned  nothing  from  the  events  of  the  Revolution,  and  did  not  even 
dimly  imderstand  theii"  own  position.  Theu'  own  allies  repudiated 
both  their  sentiments  and  then-  actions  in  the  very  moments  when 
they  believed  themselves  to  be  honorably  fighting  for  self-preservation. 
English  statesmen  like  Granville  and  Harcoiu-t  now  thought  and  said 
that  it  was  impossible  to  impose  on  France  a  form  of  government 
distasteful  to  her  people;  but  the  British  regent  and  the  French  pre- 
tender, who,  on  the  death  of  his  imfortimate  nephew,  the  dauphin, 
had  been  recognized  by  the  powers  as  Louis  XVIII.,  were  stubbornly 
united  under  the  old  Bourbon  motto,  "All  or  nothing."  The  change 
in  the  Convention,  in  Paris  society,  even  in  the  country  itself,  which 
was  about  to  desert  its  extreme  Jacobinism  and  to  adopt  the  new  con- 
stitution by  an  overwhehning  vote — all  this  deceived  them,  and  they 
determined  to  strike  for  everything  they  had  lost.  Preparations,  it  is 
now  beheved,  were  all  ready  for  an  inroad  from  the  Rhine  fi'ontier,  for 
Pichegru  to  raise  the  white  flag  and  to  advance  with  his  troops  on 
Paris,  and  for  a  simultaneous  rising  of  the  royahsts  in  every  French 
district.  On  October  fom'th  an  Enghsh  fleet  had  appeared  on  the 
northern  shore  of  France,  having  on  board  the  Coimt  of  Ai'tois  and  a 
large  body  of  emigrants,  accompanied  by  a  powerful  force  of  Enghsh, 
composed  in  part  of  regulars,  in  part  of  volunteers.  This  completed 
the  prehminary  measm-es. 

With  the  first  great  conflict  in  the  struggle,  avowed  royahsm  had 
only  an  indirect  connection.  By  this  time  the  Paris  sections  were 
thoroughly  reorganized,  having  pm-ged  themselves  of  the  extreme 
democratic  elements  from  the  subm^bs.  They  were  well  di^iUed,  weU 
armed,  and  enthusiastic  for  resistance  to  the  decree  of  the  Con- 
vention requiinng  the  compulsory  reelection  of  a  certain  propor- 
tion of  its  members.  The  National  Guard  was  not  less  embittered 
against  that  measure.  There  were  three  experienced  officers  then  in 
Paris  who  were  capable  of  leading  an  insurrection,  and  could  be  rehed 
on  to  oppose  the  Convention.  These  were  Danican,  Duhoux  d'Haute- 
rive,  and  Laffont,  aU  royahsts  at  heart;  the  last  was  an  emigrant, 
and  avowed  it.     The  Convention  had  also  by  this  time  completed  its 


^T.  25-2G]       BONAPARTE    THE    GENERAL    OF    THE    CONVENTION  179 

enlistment,  and  had  taken  other  measures  of  defense ;  but  it  was  with-    chap.  xxi 
out  a  tri;stworthy  person  to  command  its  forces,  for  among  the  four-        i"95 
teen  generals  of  the  repubhc  then  present  in  Paris,  only  two  were 
certainly  loyal  to  the  Convention,  and  both  these  were  men  of  very 
indifferent  character  and  officers  of  no  capacity. 

The  Convention  forces  were  technically  a  part  of  the  anny  knowTi 
as  that  of  the  interior,  of  which  Menou  was  the  commander.  The  new 
constitution  having  been  formally  proclaimed  on  September  twenty- 
thu'd,  the  signs  of  open  rebellion  iu  Paris  became  too  clear  to  be 
longer  disregarded,  and  on  that  night  a  mass  meeting  of  the  various 
sections  was  held  in  the  Odeon  theater  in  order  to  prepare  plans  for 
open  resistance.  That  of  Lepelletier,  in  the  heart  of  Paris,  comprising 
the  wealthiest  and  most  influential  of  the  mercantile  class,  afterward 
assembled  in  its  hall  and  issued  a  call  to  rebellion.  These  were  no 
contemptible  foes  :  on  the  memorable  tenth  of  August,  theu's  had  been 
the  battalion  of  the  National  Guard  which  died  with  the  Swiss  in  de- 
fense of  the  Tuileries.  Menou,  in  obedience  to  the  command  of  the 
Convention  to  disarm  the  insurgent  sections,  confronted  them  for  a 
moment.  But  the  work  was  not  to  his  taste.  After  a  short  parley, 
drn-ing  which  he  feebly  recommended  them  to  disperse  and  behave  Hke 
good  citizens,  he  withdrew  his  forces  to  their  ban'acks,  and  left  the 
armed  and  angiy  sections  masters  of  the  situation.  Prompt  and  ener- 
getic measui'es  were  more  necessary  than  ever.  For  some  days  already 
the  Convention  leaders  had  been  discussing  their  plans.  Camot  and 
Tallien  finally  agreed  with  Ban-as  that  the  man  most  hkely  to  do  thor- 
oughly the  active  work  was  Buonaparte.  But,  apparently,  they  dared 
not  altogether  trust  him,  for  Barras  himself  was  appointed  commander- 
in-chief.  His  "httle  Corsican  officer,  who  will  not  stand  on  ceremony," 
as  he  called  him,  was  to  be  nominally  heutenant.  On  October  fourth 
Buonaparte  was  summoned  to  a  conference.  The  messengers  sought 
him  at  his  lodgings  and  in  all  his  haimts,  but  could  not  find  him.  It 
was  niae  in  the  evening  when  he  appeared  at  headquarters  in  the  Place 
du  Carrousel.  This  delay  gave  Barras  a  chance  to  insinuate  that  his 
ardent  republican  friend,  who  all  the  previous  week  had  been  eagerly 
sohciting  employment,  was  untrustworthy  in  the  crisis,  and  had  been 
negotiating  with  the  sectionaries.  Buonaparte  reported  himseK  as 
having  come  from  the  section  of  Lepelletier,  but  as  having  been  recon- 
noitering  the  enemy.    After  a  rather  tart  conversation  Barras  appointed 


180 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  25-26 


Chap.  XXI    him  aide-de-camp,  the  position  for  which  he  had  been  destined  from 
1795       the  first.    Whatever  was  the  general's  understanding  of  the  situation, 
that  of  the  aide  was  clear  —  that  he  was  to  be  his  own  master. 

Not  a  moment  was  lost,  and  thi-oughout  the  night  most  vigorous  and 
incessant  preparation  was  made.  Buonaparte  was  as  much  himself  in 
the  streets  of  Paris  as  in  those  of  Ajaccio,  except  that  his  energy  was 
proportionately  more  feverish,  as  the  defense  of  the  Tuileries  and  the 
riding-school  attached  to  it,  in  which  the  Convention  sat,  was  a  grander 
task  than  the  never-accomphshed  capture  of  the  Corsican  citadel.  The 
avenues  and  streets  of  a  city  somewhat  resemble  the  main  and  tributary 
valleys  of  a  moimtain-range,  and  the  task  of  campaigning  in  Paris  was 
less  unhke  that  of  manceuvering  in  the  narrow  gorges  of  the  Apennines 
than  might  be  supposed;  at  least  Buonaparte's  strategy  was  nearly 
identical  for  both.  All  his  measures  were  masterly.  The  foe,  scattered 
as  yet  throughout  Paris  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  was  first  cut  in 
two  by  seizing  and  fortifying  the  bridges  across  the  Seine ;  then  every 
avenue  of  approach  was  hkewise  guarded,  while  flanking  artillery  was 
set  in  the  narrow  streets  to  command  the  main  arteries.  Finally  a  re- 
serve, ready  for  use  on  either  side  of  the  river,  was  estabhshed  in  what 
is  now  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  with  an  open  hne  of  retreat  toward 
St.  Cloud  behind  it.  Eveiy  order  was  issued  in  Barras's  name,  and 
Barras,  in  his  memoirs,  claims  all  the  honors  of  the  day.  He  de- 
clares that  his  aide  was  afoot,  while  he  was  the  man  on  horseback, 
ubiquitous  and  masterful.  He  does  not  even  admit  that  Buonaparte 
bestrode  a  cab-horse,  as  even  the  vanquished  were  ready  to  acknow- 
ledge. The  sections,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  the  new  commander 
or  of  Buonaparte,  and  recalled  only  Menou's  pusillanimity.  Without 
cannon  and  without  a  plan,  they  determined  to  diive  out  the  Conven- 
tion at  once,  and  to  overwhelm  its  forces  by  superior  numbers.  The 
quays  of  the  left  bank  were  therefore  occupied  by  a  large  body  of  the  * 
National  Guard,  ready  to  rush  in  fi'om  behind  when  the  main  attack, 
made  from  the  north  through  the  labyrinth  of  streets  and  blind  alleys 
then  designated  by  the  name  of  St.  Honore,  and  by  the  short,  wide 
passage  of  I'Echelle,  should  draw  the  Convention  forces  away  in  that 
direction  to  resist  it.  A  kind  of  rendezvous  had  been  appointed  at 
the  church  of  St.  Eoch,  which  was  to  be  used  as  a  depot  of  supphes 
and  a  retreat.  Numerous  sectionaries  were,  in  fact,  posted  there  as 
auxiliaries  at  the  crucial  instant. 


H 
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VJ1 


CHAPTER  XXTT 

the  day  of  the  paris  sections 

The  Waefaee  at  St,  Roch  and  the  Pont  Royal — Order  Restored 
— Meaning  of  the  Conflict — Political  Dangers — Bonaparte's 
Dilemma — His  True  Attitude — Sudden  Wealth — The  Direc- 
tory AJSTD  Their  General — Bonaparte  in  Love — His  Corsican 
Temperament — His  Matrimonial  Adventures. 

IN  this  general  position  the  opposing  forces  confronted  each  other  on  chap.  x-yn 
the  morning  of  October  fifth,  the  thirteenth  of  Vendemiaire.  Both  1795 
seemed  loath  to  begin.  But  at  half -past  four  in  the  afternoon  it  was 
clear  that  the  decisive  moment  had  come.  As  if  by  instinct,  but  in 
reahty  at  Danican's  signal,  the  forces  of  the  sections  from  the  northern 
portion  of  the  capital  began  to  pour  through  the  narrow  maia  street  of 
St.  Honore,  behind  the  riding-school,  toward  the  chief  entrance  of  the 
Tuileries.  They  no  doubt  felt  safer  in  the  rear  of  the  Convention  hall, 
with  the  high  wall  of  houses  all  about,  than  they  would  have  done  in 
the  open  spaces  which  they  would  have  had  to  cross  in  order  to  attack 
it  from  the  front.  When  their  compacted  mass  reached  the  church  of 
St.  Roch,  and,  taking  a  stand,  suddenly  became  aware  that  in  the  side 
streets  on  the  right  were  yawning  the  muzzles  of  hostile  cannon,  the 
excited  citizens  lost  their  heads,  and  began  to  discharge  their  muskets. 
Then  with  a  swift,  sudden  blast,  the  street  was  cleared  by  a  terrible  dis- 
charge of  the  shrapnel,  canister,  and  gi'ape-shot  with  which  the  gi-eat 
guns  of  Barras  and  Buonaparte  were  loaded.  The  action  continued 
about  an  hour,  for  the  people  and  the  National  Guard  ralUed  again  and 
again,  each  time  to  be  mowed  down  by  a  Hke  awful  discharge.  At  last 
they  could  be  rallied  no  longer,  and  retreated.  On  the  left  bank  a 
similar  melee  ended  in  a  similar  way.  Three  times  Laffont  gathered 
his  forces  and  hurled  them  at  the  Pont  Royal ;  three  times  they  were 

181 


182 


LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


CHAP,  xxn  swept  back  by  the  cross-fii-e  of  artillery.  The  scene  then  changed  like 
1795  the  vanishing  of  a  mirage.  Awe-stricken  messengers  appeared,  hurry- 
ing everywhere  with  the  prostrating  news  from  both  sides  of  the  river, 
and  the  entire  Parisian  force  withdi-ew  to  shelter.  Before  nightfall  the 
triumph  of  the  Convention  was  complete.  The  di'amatic  effect  of  this 
achievement  was  heightened  by  the  appearance  on  horseback  here, 
there,  and  everywhere,  dui-ing  the  short  hour  of  battle,  of  an  awe-inspir- 
ing leader ;  both  before  and  after,  he  was  unseen.  In  spite  of  Ban-as's 
claims,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  di-amatic  personage  was  Buona- 
parte. If  not,  for  what  was  he  so  signaUy  rewarded  in  the  immediate 
sequel?  Barras  was  no  artillerist,  and  this  was  the  appearance  of  an 
expert  giving  masterly  lessons  in  artillery  practice  to  an  astonished 
world,  which  little  dresimed  what  he  was  yet  to  demonstrate  as  to  the 
worth  of  his  chosen  ann  on  wider  battle-fields.  For  the  moment  it 
suited  Buonaparte  to  appear  merely  as  an  agent.  In  his  reports  of  the 
affair  his  own  name  is  kept  in  the  background.  It  is  evident  that  fi*om 
first  to  last  he  intended  to  produce  the  impression  that,  though  acting 
with  Jacobins,  he  does  so  because  they  for  the  time  represent  the 
truth:  he  is  not  for  that  reason  to  be  identified  with  them. 

There  was  no  renewal  of  the  reign  of  terror.  A  few  conspicuous 
leaders  were  executed,  among  them  Laffont,  and  harsh  measm^es  were 
enacted  in  relation  to  the  pohtical  status  of  returned  emigrants.  But 
in  the  main  an  unexpected  mercy  controlled  the  Convention's  pohcy. 
They  closed  the  halls  in  which  the  people  of  the  mutinous  wards  had 
met,  and  once  more  reorganized  the  National  Guard.  Order  was  re- 
stored without  an  effort.  Beyond  the  walls  of  Paris  the  effect  of  the 
news  was  magical.  Ai'tois,  afterward  Charles  X.,  though  he  had 
landed  three  days  before  on  lie  Dieu,  now  reembarked,  and  sailed  back 
to  England,  while  the  other  royahst  leaders  prudently  held  their  fol- 
lowers in  check  and  their  measures  in  abeyance.  The  new  constitution 
was  in  a  short  time  offered  to  the  nation,  and  accepted  by  an  over- 
whelming majority ;  the  members  of  the  Convention  were  assured  of 
their  ascendancy  in  the  new  legislatm^e ;  and  before  long  the  rebellion 
in  Vendee  and  Brittany  was  so  far  crushed  as  to  release  eighty  thou- 
sand troops  for  service  abroad.  For  the  leaders  of  its  forces  the  Con- 
vention made  a  most  hberal  provision:  the  division  commanders  of 
the  thirteenth  of  Vendemiaire  were  all  promoted.  Buonaparte  was 
made  second  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Interior :  in  other  words, 


^T.26]  THE    DAY    OF    THE    PARIS    SECTIONS  183 

was  coTifirmed  in  an  office  he  had  both  created  and  rendered  illustrious.   Crap.  xxii 
As  Ban-as  ahnost  immediately  resigned,  this  was  equivalent  to  very        1795 
high  promotion. 

This  memorable  "day  of  the  sections,"  as  it  is  often  called,  was  an 
unhallowed  day  for  France  and  French  Hberty.  It  was  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  the  army  since  the  Revolution  as  a  support  to  political 
authority;  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  process  which  made  the  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  army  the  dictator  of  France.  All  purely  pohti- 
cal  powers  were  gradually  to  vanish  in  order  to  make  way  for  a  military 
state.  The  temporary  tyranny  of  the  Convention  rested  on  a  measure, 
at  least,  of  popular  consent;  but  in  the  very  midst  of  its  preparations 
to  perpetuate  a  purely  civil  and  political  administration,  the  \'iolence  of 
the  sections  had  compelled  it  to  confide  the  new  institutions  to  the 
keeping  of  soldiers.  The  ideahsm  of  the  new  constitution  was  manifest 
from  the  beginning.  Every  chance  which  the  Directory  had  for  success 
was  dependent,  not  on  the  inherent  worth  of  the  system  or  its  adapta- 
bility to  present  conditions,  but  on  the  supj)ort  of  interested  men  in 
power;  among  these  the  commanders  of  the  army  were  not  the  least 
influential.  After  the  suppression  of  the  sections,  the  old  Convention 
continued  to  sit  under  the  style  of  the  Primary  Assembly,  and  was 
ostensibly  occupied  in  selecting  those  of  its  members  who  were  to  be 
returned  to  the  legislature  under  the  new  constitution.  There  being  no 
provision  for  any  interim  government,  the  exercise  of  real  power  was 
suspended;  the  magistracy  was  a  house  swept  and  garnished,  ready 
for  the  first  comer  to  occupy  it. 

As  the  army  and  not  the  people  had  made  the  coming  administra- 
tion possible,  the  executive  power  would  from  the  first  be  the  creature 
of  the  army;  and  since  under  the  constitutional  provisions  there  was 
no  legal  means  of  compromise  between  the  Directory  and  the  legisla- 
ture in  case  of  conflict,  so  that  the  stronger  would  necessarily  crush 
the  weaker,  the  armed  power  supporting  the  directors  must  therefore 
triumph  in  the  end,  and  the  man  who  controlled  that  must  become  the 
master  of  the  Directory  and  the  ruler  of  the  coimtry.  Moreover,  a 
people  can  be  free  only  when  the  first  and  imquestioning  devotion  of 
every  citizen  is  not  to  a  party,  but  to  his  country  and  its  constitution, 
his  party  allegiance  being  entirely  secondary.  This  was  far  from  being 
the  case  in  France :  the  nation  was  divided  into  uTeconcilable  camps, 
not  of  constitutional  parties,  but  of  violent  partizans;  many  even  of 


184 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


Chap,  xxn  the  moderate  republicans  now  openly  expressed  a  desire  for  some  kind 
1795  of  monarchy.  Outwardly  the  constitution  was  the  freest  so  far  de- 
vised. Three  fatal  blunders  had  been  made  which  rendered  it  the  best 
jjossible  tool  for  a  tyrant:  it  coidd  not  be  changed  for  a  long  period; 
there  was  no  arbiter  but  force  between  a  warring  legislative  and  execu- 
tive ;  the  executive  was  now  supported  by  the  army. 

It  is  impossible  to  prove  that  Buonaparte  understood  all  this  at  the 
time.  When  at  St.  Helena  he  spoke  as  if  he  did;  but  unfortunately  his 
later  writings,  however  valuable  fi'om  the  psychological,  are  worthless 
fi'om  the  historical,  standpoint.  They  aboimd  in  misrepresentations 
which  are  in  part  due  to  lapse  of  time  and  weakness  of  memory,  in  part 
to  wilful  intention.  Wishing  the  RobespieiTe-Sahcetti  episode  of  his 
life  to  be  forgotten,  he  strives  in  his  memou's  to  create  the  impression 
that  the  Convention  had  ordered  him  to  take  charge  of  the  artillery  at 
Toulon,  when  in  fact  he  was  in  Marseilles  as  a  mere  passer-by  on  his 
journey  to  Nice,  and  in  Toulon  as  a  temporary  adjunct  to  the  army  of 
Carteaux,  having  been  made  an  active  participant  partly  through  acci- 
dent, partly  by  the  good  will  of  personal  fiiends.  In  the  same  way  he 
also  devised  a  fable  about  the  "  day  of  the  sections,"  in  order  that  he 
might  not  appear  to  have  been  scheming  for  himself  in  the  councils  of 
the  Convention,  and  that  Barras's  share  in  his  elevation  might  be  con- 
signed to  oblivion.  This  story  of  Napoleon's  has  come  down  in  three 
stages  of  its  development,  by  as  many  different  transcribers,  who  heard 
it  at  different  times.  The  final  one,  as  given  by  Las  Cases,  was  cor- 
rected by  Napoleon's  own  hand.  It  runs  as  follows:  On  the  night  of 
October  third  he  was  at  the  theater,  but  hearing  that  Menou  had  vir- 
tually retreated  before  the  wards,  and  was  to  be  arrested,  he  left  and 
went  to  the  meeting  of  the  Convention,  where,  as  he  stood  among  the 
spectators,  he  heard  his  own  name  mentioned  as  Menou's  successor. 
For  haK  an  hom*  he  dehberated  what  he  should  do  if  chosen.  If  de- 
feated, he  would  be  execrated  by  all  coming  generations,  while  victory 
would  be  almost  odious.  How  could  he  dehberately  become  the  scape- 
goat of  so  many  crimes  to  which  he  had  been  an  utter  stranger?  Why 
go  as  an  avowed  Jacobin  and  in  a  few  hours  swell  the  hst  of  names  ut- 
tered with  hoiTor?  "  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  Convention  be  crushed, 
what  becomes  of  the  great  truths  of  our  Revolution  ■?  Our  many  vic- 
tories, om-  blood  so  often  shed,  are  all  nothing  but  shameful  deeds. 
The  foreigner  we  have  so  thoroughly  conquered  triumphs  and  over- 


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^T.  26]  THE    DAY    OF    THE    PARIS    SECTIONS  185 

whelms  us  with  his  contempt;  an  incapable  race,  an  ovorbeaiing  and  chap. xxn 
unnatural  following,  reappear  triumphant,  throw  up  our  crime  to  us,  i795 
wreak  their  vengeance,  and  govern  us  like  helots  by  the  hand  of  a 
stranger.  Thus  the  defeat  of  the  Convention  would  crown  the  brow  of 
the  foreigner,  and  seal  the  disgi-ace  and  slavery  of  om*  native  land." 
Such  thoughts,  his  youth,  trust  in  his  o\vu  power  and  in  his  destiny, 
turned  the  balance. 

Statements  made  under  such  circumstances  are  not  proof;  but  there 
is  this  much  probability  of  truth  in  them,  that  if  we  imagine  the  old 
Buonaparte  in  disgrace  as  of  old,  following  as  of  old  the  promptings  of 
Ms  curiosity,  indifferent  as  of  old  to  the  success  of  either  principle,  and 
by  instinct  a  soldier  as  of  old, —  if  we  recall  him  in  this  character,  and 
remember  that  he  is  no  longer  a  youthful  Corsican  patriot,  but  a  mature 
cosmopohtan  consumed  with  personal  ambition, —  we  may  surely  con- 
clude that  he  was  perfectly  impartial  as  to  the  parties  involved,  leaned 
toward  the  support  of  the  principles  of  the  Revolution  as  he  under- 
stood them,  and  saw  in  the  comphcations  of  the  hour  a  probable  open- 
ing for  his  ambition.  At  any  rate,  his  conduct  after  October  fourth 
seems  to  uphold  this  view.  He  was  a  changed  man,  ardent,  hopeful, 
and  irrepressible,  as  he  had  ever  been  when  lucky ;  but  now,  besides, 
daring,  overbearing,  and  self-confident  to  a  degree  which  those  charac- 
teristic quaUties  had  never  reached  before. 

His  first  care  was  to  place  on  a  footing  of  efficiency  the  Army  of 
the  Interior,  scattered  in  many  departments,  undisciplined  and  disorgan- 
ized ;  the  next,  to  cow  into  submission  all  the  low  elements  in  Paris, 
still  hungry  and  fierce,  by  reorganizing  the  National  Guard,  and  forming 
a  picked  troop  for  the  special  protection  of  the  legislature;  the  next, 
to  show  himself  as  the  powerful  friend  of  every  one  in  disgrace,  as 
a  man  of  the  world  without  rancor  or  exaggerated  partizanship.  At 
the  same  time  he  plunged  into  speculation,  and  sent  sums  incredibly 
large  to  various  members  of  his  family,  a  single  remittance  of  four 
hundred  thousand  francs  being  mentioned  in  his  letters.  Lucien  was 
restored  to  the  arms  of  his  low-born  but  faithful  and  beloved  wife,  and 
sent  to  join  his  mother  and  sisters  in  Marseilles ;  Louis  was  brought 
from  Chalons,  and  made  a  lieutenant;  Jerome  was  put  at  school  in 
Paris  ;  and  to  Joseph  a  consulate  was  assured.  Putting  aside  all  bash- 
fulness.  General  Buonaparte  became  a  full-fledged  society  man  and  a 
beau.     No  social  rank  was  now  strange  to  him ;  the  remnants  of  the 


186 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


Chap,  xxh  old  aristocracy,  the  wealthy  citizens  of  Paris,  the  returning  Girondists, 
1795       many  of  whom  had  become  pronounced  royahsts,  the  new  deputies,  the 
officers  who  in  some  turn  of  the  wheel  had,  like  himself,  lost  their  posi- 
tions, but  were  now,  through  his  favor,  reinstated — all  these  he  strove 
to  com-t,  flatter,  and  make  his  own. 

Such  activity,  of  com'se,  could  not  pass  unnoticed.  The  new  gov- 
ernment had  been  constituted  without  distui'bance,  the  Du'ectory 
chosen,  and  the  legislature  installed.  Of  the  five  directors  —  Barras, 
Rewbell,  Carnot,  Letoumeaux  de  la  Manche,  and  LareveUiere-Lepeaux 
—  all  had  voted  for  the  death  of  Louis  XVI.,  and  were  so-called  regi- 
cides ;  but,  while  varying  widely  in  character  and  ability,  they  were  all, 
excepting  BaiTas,  true  to  their  convictions.  They  scarcely  understood 
how  strong  the  revulsion  of  popular  feeling  had  been,  and,  utterly  ignor- 
ing the  impossibility  of  harmonious  action  among  themselves,  hoped  to 
exercise  their  power  with  such  moderation  as  to  win  all  classes  to  the 
new  constitution.  They  were  extremely  disttu'bed  by  the  coui'se  of 
the  general  commanding  then*  army  in  seeking  intimacy  with  men  of 
all  opinions,  but  were  unwilling  to  interpret  it  aright.  Under  the  Con- 
vention, the  Army  of  the  Interior  had  been  a  tool,  its  commander  a 
mere  puppet ;  now  the  executive  was  confronted  by  an  independence 
which  thi-eatened  a  reversal  of  roles.  This  situation  was  the  more 
disquieting  because  Buonaparte  was  a  capable  and  not  unwjlling  pohce 
officer.  Among  many  other  invaluable  services  to  the  government,  he 
closed  in  person  the  great  club  of  the  Pantheon,  which  was  the  raUying- 
point  of  the  disaffected.  Throughout  another  whiter  of  famine  there 
was  not  a  single  dangerous  outbreak.  At  the  same  time  there  were 
frequent  manifestations  of  jealousy  in  lower  circles,  especially  among 
those  who  knew  the  origin  and  career  of  their  new  master. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year  the  bearing  and  behavior  of  the  gen- 
eral became  constraiaed,  reserved,  and  awkward.  Various  reasons  were 
assigned  for  this  demeanor.  Many  thought  it  was  due  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  social  deficiency,  and  his  detractors  still  declare  that  Paris  life 
was  too  fierce  for  even  his  self-assurance,  poiatiag  to  the  change  in  his 
handwriting  and  grammar,  to  his  alternate  silence  and  loquacity,  as  a 
proof  of  mental  uneasiness ;  to  his  suUen  musings  and  coarse  threats  as 
a  theatrical  affectation  to  hide  wounded  pride ;  and  to  his  coming  mar- 
riage as  a  desperate  shift  to  secure  a  social  dignity  proportionate  to  the 
career  he  saw  openmg  before  him  in  pohtics  and  war.     In  a  common 


^T.26]  THE    DAY    OF    THE    PARIS    SECTIONS  187 

inau  not  subjected  to  a  microscopic  examination,  such  conduct  woiUd   chap.  xxii 
be  attributed  to  his  being  in  love ;  the  wedding  would  ordinarily  be        i^os 
regarded  as  the  natural  and  beautiful  consequence  of  a  gi-eat  passion. 

Men  have  not  forgotten  that  Buonaparte  once  denounced  love  as  a 
hurtful  passion  from  which  God  should  protect  bis  creatures;  and 
they  have,  for  this,  among  other  reasons,  pronounced  him  incapable 
of  disinterested  affection.  But  it  is  also  true  tliat  he  Ukewise  de- 
nounced Buttafuoco  for  having,  among  otber  crimes  committed  by 
him,  "married  to  extend  his  influence";  and  we  are  forced  to  ask 
which  of  the  two  sentiments  is  genuine  and  characteristic.  Probably 
both  and  neither,  according  to  the  mood  of  the  man.  Outward  caprice 
is,  in  great  natures,  often  the  mask  of  inward  perseverance,  especially 
among  the  imprincipled  who  suit  their  language  to  their  present  pur- 
pose, in  fine  disdain  of  commonplace  consistency.  The  primitive  Cor- 
sican  was  both  nide  and  gentle,  easily  moved  to  tears  at  one  time, 
insensate  at  another;  selfish  at  one  moment,  lavish  at  another;  and 
yet  he  had  a  consistent  character.  Although  dishking  in  later  life  to 
be  called  a  Corsican,  Napoleon  was  nevertheless  typical  of  his  race  :  he 
could  despise  love,  yet  render  himself  its  willing  slave ;  he  was  fierce 
and  dictatorial,  yet,  as  the  present  object  of  his  passion  said,  "  tenderer 
and  weaker  than  anybody  dreamed." 

And  thus  it  was  in  the  matter  of  his  couiiship ;  there  were  ele- 
ments in  it  of  romantic,  abandoned  passion,  but  hkewise  of  shrewd, 
calculating  selfishness.  In  his  callow  youth  his  relations  to  the  other 
sex  had  been  either  childish,  morbid,  or  immoral.  Diu-ing  Ms  earhest 
manhood  he  had  appeared  hke  one  who  desu-ed  the  training  rather 
than  the  substance  of  gallantry.  As  a  Jacobin  he  sought  such  sup- 
port as  he  could  find  in  the  good  will  of  the  women  related  to  men  in 
power ;  as  a  French  patriot  he  put  forth  strenuous  efforts  to  secure  an 
influential  alliance  through  matrimony.  He  appears  to  have  addressed 
Mme.  Permon,  whose  fortune,  despite  her  advanced  age,  would  have 
been  a  great  rehef  to  his  destitution.  Refused  by  her,  he  was  in  a  dis- 
ordered and  desperate  emotional  state  imtil  mihtary  and  pohtical  suc- 
cess gave  him  sufficient  self-confidence  to  try  once  more.  "With  his  feet 
firmly  planted  on  the  ladder  of  ambition,  he  was  not  indifferent  to  se- 
curing social  props  for  a  further  rise,  but  was  nevei-theless  in  such  a 
tumult  of  feeling  as  to  make  him  particularly  receptive  to  real  passion. 
It  is  certain  that  he  made  advances  for  the  hand  of  the  rich  and  beau- 


188 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [-^Et.  26 


Chap,  xxn  tiful  Desiree  Clary.  The  first  evidence  in  his  correspondence  of  a  seri- 
3795  ous  intention  to  many  her  is  contained  in  the  letter  of  June  eighteenth, 
1795,  to  Joseph;  and  for  a  few  weeks  afterward  he  wi-ote  at  intervals 
with  some  impatience,  as  if  she  were  coy.  But  the  claim  is  advanced 
that  Napoleon,  visiting  her  long  before  at  the  request  of  Joseph,  who 
was  then  enamom-ed  of  her,  had  himseK  become  interested,  and  per- 
suading his  brother  to  marry  her  sister,  had  entered  into  an  under- 
standing with  her  which  was  equivalent  to  a  betrothal ;  that  time  and 
distance  had  cooled  his  ardor ;  and  that  he  virtually  threw  her  over  for 
Mme.  Beauhamais,  who  dazzled  and  infatuated  him.  This  claim  is  prob- 
ably founded  on  fact,  but  there  is  no  evidence  sufficient  to  sustain  a 
charge  of  positive  bad  faith  on  the  part  of  Napoleon.  Neither  he  nor 
Mile.  Clary  appears  to  have  been  ardent  when  Joseph  as  intermediary 
began,  according  to  French  custom,  to  arrange  the  prehminaries  of 
marriage ;  and  when  General  Buonaparte  fell  madly  in  love  with  Mme. 
Beauhamais  the  matter  was  dropped. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

a  maeriage  of  inclination  and  interest 

The  Taschers  and  Beauharnais  —  Execution  of  Alexandre  Beau- 
HARNAis  —  Adventures  of  His  Widow  —  Meeting  of  Napoleon 
AND  Josephine  —  The  Latter's  Uncertainties  —  Her  Character 
AND  Station — Passion  and  Convenience — The  Bride's  Dowry — 
Bonaparte's  Philosophy  of  Life — The  Ladder  to  Glory. 

IN  1779,  while  the  boys  at  Brienne  were  still  toi-menting  the  Mttle  chap.  xxm 
untamed  Corsican  nobleman,  and  driving  him  to  his  garden  forta-  i796 
lice,  there  to  seek  refuge  from  their  taunts  in  company  with  his  Plu- 
tarch, there  had  arrived  in  Paris  from  Martinique  a  successful  planter 
of  that  island,  a  French  gentleman  of  good  family,  M.  Tascher  de  la 
Pagerie,  bringing  back  to  that  city  for  the  second  time  his  daughter 
Josephine.  She  was  then  a  girl  of  sixteen,  without  either  beauty  or 
education,  but  thoroughly  matured,  and  with  a  quick  Creole  inteUigence 
and  a  graceful  litheness  of  figm-e  which  made  her  a  most  attractive 
woman.  She  had  spent  the  years  of  her  life  from  ten  to  fourteen  in 
the  convent  of  Port  Royal.  Having  passed  the  interval  in  her  native 
isle,  she  was  about  to  contract  a  marriage  which  her  relatives  ia 
France  had  arranged.  Her  betrothed  was  the  younger  son  of  a  fam- 
ily friend,  the  Marquis  de  Beauharnais.  The  bride  landed  on  October 
twentieth,  and  the  ceremony  took  place  on  December  thirteenth.  The 
young  vicomte  brought  his  wife  home  to  a  suitable  establishment  in  the 
capital.  Two  children  were  bom  to  them — Eugene  and  Hortense;  but 
before  the  birth  of  the  latter  the  husband  quarreled  with  his  wife,  for 
reasons  that  have  never  been  known.  The  court  gi-anted  a  separation, 
with  alimony,  to  Mme.  de  Beauharnais,  who  some  years  later  withdrew 
to  her  father's  home  in  Martinique.  Her  husband  sailed  to  America 
with  the  forces  of  BouiUe,  and  remained  there  until  the  outbreak  of 


^gQ  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap,  xxhi  the  Revolution,  when  he  returned,  and  was  elected  a  deputy  to  the 
1796        States-General. 

Becoming  an  ardent  repubhcan,  he  was  several  times  president  of 
the  National  Assembly,  and  his  house  was  an  important  center  of  influ- 
ence. In  1790  M.  Tascher  died,  and  his  daughter,  with  her  children, 
returned  to  France.  It  was  probably  at  her  husband's  instance,  for 
she  at  once  joined  him  at  his  country-seat,  where  they  continued  to 
live,  as  "brother  and  sister,"  until  Citizen  Beauhamais  was  made  com- 
mander of  the  Aj-my  of  the  Rhine.  As  the  days  of  the  Ten-or  ap- 
proached, every  man  of  noble  blood  was  more  and  more  in  danger.  At 
last  Beauhamais's  turn  came ;  he  too  was  denounced  to  the  Commune, 
and  imprisoned.  Before  long  his  wife  was  behind  the  same  bars. 
Then-  children  were  in  the  care  of  an  aunt,  Mme.  Egle,  who  had  been, 
and  was  again  to  be,  a  woman  of  distinction  in  the  social  world,  but  had 
temporarily  sought  the  protection  of  an  old  acquaintance,  a  former 
abbe,  who  had  become  a  member  of  the  Commune.  The  gallant  yoimg 
general  was  not  one  of  the  four  acquitted  out  of  the  batch  of  forty-nine 
among  whom  he  was  finally  summoned  to  the  bar  of  the  revolutionary 
tribunal.  He  died  on  June  twenty-third,  1794,  true  to  his  convictions, 
acknowledging  ia  his  farewell  letter  to  his  wife  a  fraternal  affection  for 
her,  and  committing  solemnly  to  her  charge  his  own  good  name,  which 
she  was  to  restore  by  proving  his  devotion  to  France.  The  children 
were  to  be  her  consolation ;  they  were  to  wipe  out  the  disgrace  of  his 
punishment  by  the  practice  of  virtue  and — civism! 

Dming  her  sojourn  in  prison  Mme.  Beauhamais  had  made  a  most 
useful  friend.  This  was  a  feUow-sufferer  of  similar  character,  but  far 
greater  gifts,  whose  maiden  name  was  Cabarrus,  who  was  later  Mme.  de 
Fontenay,  who  was  afterward  divorced  and,  having  married  TaUien,  the 
Convention  deputy  at  Bordeaux,  became  renowned  as  his  wife,  and  who, 
divorced  a  second  and  married  a  third  time,  died  as  the  Princesse  de 
Chimay.  The  ninth  of  Thermidor  saved  them  both  fi-om  the  guillotine. 
In  the  days  immediately  subsequent  they  had  abundant  opportunity  to 
display  their  hght  but  clever  natures.  Mme.  Beauhamais,  as  weU  as  her 
friend,  unfolded  her  wings  like  a  butterfly  as  she  escaped  from  the  bars 
of  her  cell.  Being  a  Creole,  and  having  matured  early,  her  physical 
charms  were  already  fading.  Her  spirit,  too,  had  reached  and  passed  its 
zenith;  for  in  her  letters  of  that  time  she  describes  herself  as  listless. 
Nevertheless,  in  those  very  letters  there  is  some  sprighthness,  and  con- 


iET.26]  A   MARRIAGE    OF    INCLINATION    AND    INTEREST  191 

siderable  ability  of  a  certain  kind.  A  few  weeks  after  her  liberation,  hav-  chap.  xxin 
ing  apprenticed  Eugene  and  Hortense  to  an  upholsterer  and  a  dress-  i796 
maker  respectively,  she  was  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  BaiTas  so  close  as 
to  be  considered  suspicious,  while  her  daily  intercom-se  was  with  those 
who  had  brought  her  husband  to  a  temble  end.  In  a  luxurious  and 
Hcentious  society,  she  was  a  successful  intriguer  in  matters  both  of 
politics  and  of  pleasure ;  versed  in  the  arts  of  coquetry  and  dross,  she 
became  for  the  needy  and  ambitious  a  successful  inteimediary  with 
those  in  power.  Preferring,  as  she  rather  ostentatiously  asserted,  to  be 
guided  by  another's  will,  she  gave  little  thought  to  her  children,  or  to 
the  sad  legacy  of  her  husband's  good  name.  She  emulated,  outwardly 
at  least,  the  imprincipled  worldliness  of  those  about  her,  although  her 
friends  beheved  her  kind-hearted  and  virtuous.  Whatever  her  true 
nature  was,  she  had  a  station  among  the  foremost  of  that  gay  set 
which  was  imitating  the  court  circles  of  old,  and  an  influence  which 
had  become  not  altogether  agreeable  to  the  immoral  Proven<^.al  noble 
who  entertained  and  supported  the  giddy  coterie.  Perhaps  the  ex- 
travagance of  the  languid  Creole  was  as  trying  to  Barras  as  it  became 
afterward  to  her  second  husband. 

The  meeting  of  Napoleon  and  Josephine  was  an  event  of  the  first 
importance.  His  own  account  twice  relates  that  a  beautiful  and  tear- 
ful boy  presented  himself,  soon  after  the  disarmament  of  the  sections, 
to  the  commander  of  the  city,  and  asked  for  the  sword  of  his  father. 
The  request  was  granted,  and  next  day  the  boy's  mother,  Mme.  Beau- 
harnais,  came  to  thank  the  general  for  his  kindly  act  of  restitution. 
Captivated  by  her  grace,  Buonaparte  was  thenceforward  her  slave.  A 
cold  critic  must  remember  that  in  the  first  place  there  was  no  disarma- 
ment of  anybody  after  the  events  of  October  fifth,  the  only  action  of 
the  Convention  which  might  even  be  construed  into  hostility  beiag  a 
decree  making  emigi*ants  inehgible  for  election  to  the  legislature  under 
the  new  constitution ;  that  in  the  second  place  this  story  attributes  to 
destiny  what  was  really  due  to  the  fi-iendship  of  Barras,  a  fact  which 
his  beneficiary  would  like  to  have  forgotten  or  concealed ;  and  finally, 
that  the  beneficiary  left  another  account  in  which  he  confessed  that  he 
had  first  met  his  wife  at  Barras's  house,  this  being  confirmed  by  Lucien 
in  his  memoir's.  Of  the  passion  there  is  no  doubt;  it  was  a  com- 
posite emotion,  made  up  in  part  of  sentiment,  in  part  of  self-interest. 
Those  who  are  born  to  rude  and  simple  conditions  in  life  are  often 


jg2  LIFE    OP   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap,  xxui  dazzled  by  the  charmed  etiquette  and  mysterious  forms  of  artificial 
179G  society.  Napoleon  never  affected  to  have  been  born  to  the  manner, 
nor  did  he  ever  pretend  to  have  adopted  its  exacting  self-control,  for 
he  could  not;  although  after  the  winter  of  1795  he  frequently  dis- 
played a  weak  and  exaggerated  regard  for  social  conventions.  It  was 
not  that  he  had  need  to  assume  a  false  and  superficial  pohsh,  or  that 
he  particularly  cared  to  show  his  equahty  with  those  accustomed  to 
polite  society ;  but  that  he  probably  conceived  the  splendid  display  and 
significant  f ormahty  of  that  ancient  nobility  which  had  so  cruelly 
snubbed  him  from  the  outset  to  be,  nevertheless,  the  best  conceivable 
prop  to  a  throne. 

Lucien  looked  on  with  interest,  and  thought  that  dming  the  whole 
winter  his  brother  was  rather  courted  than  a  suitor.  In  his  memoirs 
he  naively  wonders  what  Napoleon  would  have  done  in  Asia, — either  in 
the  Indian  service  of  England,  or  against  her  in  that  of  Russia,  for  in 
his  early  youth  he  had  also  thought  of  that, — in  fact,  what  he  would 
have  done  at  all,  without  the  protection  of  women,  in  which  he  so 
firmly  beheved,  if  he  had  not,  after  the  manner  of  Mohammed,  found 
a  Kadi j  ah  at  least  ten  years  older  than  himself,  by  whose  favor  he  was 
set  at  the  opening  of  a  great  career.  There  are  hints,  too,  in  various 
contemporary  documents  and  in  the  circumstances  themselves  that 
Barras  was  an  adroit  match-maker.  In  a  letter  attributed  to  Jose- 
phine, but  without  address,  a  bright  Ught  seems  to  be  thrown  on  the 
facts.  She  asks  a  female  friend  for  advice  on  the  question  of  the 
match.  After  a  jocular  uitroduction  of  her  suitor  as  anxious  to  be- 
come a  father  to  the  children  of  Alexandre  de  Beauharnais  and  the 
husband  of  his  widow,  she  gives  a  sportive  but  merciless  dissection 
of  her  own  character,  and  declares  that  while  she  does  not  love  Buona- 
parte, she  feels  no  repugnance.  But  can  she  meet  his  wishes  or  fulfil 
his  desires?  "I  admire  the  general's  courage  ;  the  extent  of  his  infor- 
mation about  all  manner  of  things,  concerning  which  he  talks  equally 
well;  the  quickness  of  his  intelligence,  which  makes  him  catch  the 
thought  of  another  even  before  it  is  expressed:  but  I  confess  I  am 
afraid  of  the  power  he  seems  anxious  to  wield  over  all  about  Mm.  His 
piercing  scrutiny  has  in  it  something  strange  and  inexplicable,  that 
awes  even  om-  directors;  think,  then,  how  it  frightens  a  woman."  The 
writer  is  also  terrified  by  the  very  ardor  of  her  suitor's  passion.  Past 
her  fli'st  youth,  how  can  she  hope  to  keep  for  herself  that  "  violent  ten- 


AQUABELLE   MADE    FOR    THE    CEJiTUBT    CO, 


THE   CIVIL   MARRIAGE    OF   NAPOLEON   AND    lOSEPHlNE 


THt;    AliUARELLK     BY    EBli.'    PAPK 


^T.  2C]  A   MARRIAGE    OF    INCLINATION    AND    INTEREST  193 

demess  "  which  is  ahnost  a  frenzy  ?  "Would  he  not  soon  cease  to  love  chap.  xxiii 
her,  and  regret  the  marriage  ?  If  so,  her  only  resoui'ce  would  be  teal's  i^'-ms 
— a  sorry  one,  indeed,  but  still  the  only  one.  "  Ban-as  declares  that  if 
I  marry  the  general,  he  will  secure  for  him  the  chief  command  of  the 
Ai'my  of  Italy.  Yesterday  Bonaparte,  speaking  of  this  favor,  which, 
although  not  yet  granted,  ah'eady  has  set  his  colleagues  in  anns 
to  mm-mming,  said:  'Do  they  think  I  need  protection  to  succeed'? 
Some  day  they  will  be  only  too  happy  if  I  give  them  mine.  My  sword 
is  at  my  side,  and  with  it  I  shall  go  far.'  What  do  you  think  of  this 
assurance  of  success  ?  Is  it  not  a  proof  of  confidence  arising  from  ex- 
cessive self-esteem "?  A  general  of  brigade  protecting  the  heads  of  the 
government !  I  don't  know ;  but  sometimes  this  ridiculous  self-reh- 
ance  leads  me  to  the  point  of  beheving  eveiything  possible  which  this 
strange  man  would  have  me  do ;  and  with  his  imagination,  who  can 
reckon  what  he  would  undertake  ?  "  This  letter,  though  often  quoted, 
is  so  remarkable  that,  as  some  think,  it  may  be  a  later  invention.  K 
written  later,  it  was  probably  the  invention  of  Josephine  herself. 

The  divinity  who  could  awaken  such  ardor  in  a  Napoleon  was  in 
reahty  six  years  older  than  her  suitor,  and  Lucien  proves  by  his  exag- 
geration of  four  years  that  she  certainly  looked  more  than  her  real  age. 
She  had  no  fortune,  though  by  the  subterfuges  of  which  a  clever 
woman  could  make  use  she  led  Buonaparte  to  think  her  in  affluent 
circimi stances.  She  had  no  social  station;  for  her  dravsrng-room, 
though  frequented  by  men  of  ancient  name  and  exalted  position,  was 
not  graced  by  the  presence  of  then*  wives.  The  very  house  she  occu- 
pied had  a  doubtful  reputation,  having  been  a  gift  to  the  wife  of  Talma 
the  actor  from  one  of  her  lovers,  and  being  a  loan  to  Mme.  Beauharnais 
from  Barras.  She  had  thin  brown  hau",  a  complexion  neither  fresh 
nor  faded,  expressive  eyes,  a  small  retrousse  nose,  a  pretty  mouth,  and 
a  voice  that  charmed  aU  listeners.  She  was  rather  undersized,  but  her 
figure  was  so  perfectly  proportioned  as  to  give  the  impression  of  height 
and  suppleness.  Its  charms  were  scarcely  concealed  by  the  clothing 
she  wore,  made  as  it  was  in  the  suggestive  fashion  of  the  day,  with  no 
support  to  the  form  but  a  belt,  and  as  scanty  about  her  shoulders  as  it 
was  about  her  shapely  feet.  It  appears  to  have  been  her  elegance  and 
her  manners,  as  well  as  her  sensuality,  which  overpowered  Buonaparte; 
for  he  described  her  as  having  "the  calm  and  dignified  demeanor  which 
belongs  to  the  old  regime." 

26 


IW 


LIFE    OP   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


Chap,  xxhi  What  motives  may  have  combined  to  overcome  her  scruples  we  can- 
179C  not  tell ;  perhaps  a  love  of  adventm-e,  probably  an  awakened  ambition 
for  a  success  in  other  domains  than  the  one  which  advancing  years 
would  soon  compel  her  to  abandon.  She  knew  that  Buonaparte  had 
no  fortune  whatever,  but  she  also  knew,  on  the  highest  authority,  that 
both  favor  and  fortune  would  by  her  assistance  soon  be  his.  At  all 
events,  his  suit  made  swift  advance,  and  by  the  end  of  January, 
1796,  he  was  secm-e  of  his  prize.  His  love-letters,  to  judge  from 
one  which  has  been  preserved,  were  as  fiery  as  the  despatches  with 
which  he  soon  began  to  electrify  his  soldiers  and  all  France.  "I 
awaken  full  of  thee,"  he  wrote ;  "  thy  portrait  and  yester  eve's  in- 
toxicating charm  have  left  my  senses  no  repose.  Sweet  and  match- 
less Josephine,  how  strange  your  influence  upon  my  heart !  Are 
you  angry,  do  I  see  you  sad,  are  you  uneasy,  .  .  .  my  soul  is  moved 
with  grief,  and  there  is  no  rest  for  your  friend ;  but  is  there  then  more 
when,  yielding  to  an  overmastering  desire,  I  draw  from  your  lips,  yom' 
heart,  a  flame  which  consumes  me  ?  Ah,  this  very  night,  I  knew  your 
portrait  was  not  you !  Thou  leavest  at  noon ;  three  hours  more,  and  I 
shall  see  thee  again.  Meantime,  mio  dolce  amor,  a  thousand  kisses ;  but 
give  me  none,  for  they  set  me  all  afii-e."  What  genuine  and  reckless 
passion!  The  "thou"  and  "you"  may  be  strangely  jimibled;  the 
grammar  may  be  mixed  and  bad ;  the  language  may  even  be  somewhat 
indehcate,  as  it  sounds  in  other  passages  than  those  given:  but  the 
meaning  would  be  strong  enough  incense  for  the  most  exacting  woman. 
On  February  ninth,  1796,  their  bans  were  proclaimed;  on  March 
second  the  bridegroom  received  his  bride's  dowry  in  his  own  appomt- 
ment,  on  Carnot's  motion,  not  on  that  of  Barras,  as  chief  of  the  Army  of 
Italy,  still  imder  the  name  of  Buonaparte;  on  the  seventh  he  was  handed 
his  commission ;  on  the  ninth  the  marriage  ceremony  was  performed  by 
the  civil  magistrate ;  and  on  the  eleventh  the  husband  started  for  his 
post.  In  the  marriage  certificate  at  Paris  the  groom  gives  his  age  as 
twenty-eight,  but  in  reahty  he  was  not  yet  twenty-seven;  the  bride, 
who  was  thirty-three,  gives  hers  as  not  quite  twenty-nine.  Her  name  is 
spelled  Detascher,  his  Bonaparte.  A  new  birth,  a  new  baptism,  a  new 
career,  a  new  start  in  a  new  sphere,  Corsica  forgotten.  Jacobinism  re- 
nounced. General  and  Mme.  Bonaparte  made  their  bow  to  the  world. 
The  ceremony  attracted  no  pubhc  attention,  and  was  most  uncere- 
monious, no  member  of  the  family  from  either  side  being  present. 


^T.  26]  A    MARRIAGI^  OF    INCLINATION    AND    INTEREST  I95 

Madame  Mere,  in  fact,  was  very  angry,  and  foretold  that  with  such  a  chap.  xxm 
difference  in  age  the  union  would  be  ban-en.  179c 

There  was  one  weu-d  omen  which,  read  aright,  distinguishes  the 
otherwise  commonplace  occurrence.  In  the  wedding-ring  were  two 
words — "To  destiny."  The  words  were  ominous,  for  they  were  indica- 
tive of  a  pohcy  long  since  formed  and  never  afterward  concealed,  being 
a  pretense  to  deceive  Josephine  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  world :  the 
giver  was  about  to  assume  a  new  role, — that  of  the  "man  of  destiny," 
— to  work  for  a  time  on  the  imagination  and  superstition  of  his  age. 
Sometimes  he  forgot  his  part,  and  displayed  the  shrewd,  calculating, 
hard-working  man  behind  the  mask,  who  was  less  a  fatahst  than  a 
personified  fate,  less  a  child  of  fortune  than  its  maker.  "Great 
events,"  he  wrote  a  very  short  time  later  from  Italy,  "ever  depend  but 
upon  a  single  hair.  The  adroit  man  profits  by  everything,  neglects 
nothing  which  can  increase  his  chances;  the  less  adroit,  by  sometimes 
disregarding  a  single  chance,  fails  in  everything."  Here  is  the  whole 
philosophy  of  Bonaparte's  life.  He  may  have  been  sincere  at  times  in 
the  other  profession;  if  so,  it  was  because  he  could  find  no  other  ex- 
pression for  what  in  his  natiu-e  corresponded  to  romance  in  others. 

The  general  and  his  adjutant  reached  Marseilles  in  due  season.  The 
good  news  of  Napoleon's  successes  having  long  preceded  them,  the 
home  of  the  Buonapartes  had  become  the  resort  of  many  among 
the  best  and  most  ambitious  men  in  the  southern  land.  Ehsa  was  now 
twenty,  and  though  much  sought  after,  was  showing  a  marked  prefer- 
ence for  Pasquale  Bacciocchi,  the  poor  young  Corsican  whom  she  after- 
ward married.  Pauline  was  sixteen,  a  great  beauty,  and  deep  in  a 
serious  flirtation  with  Freron,  who,  not  having  been  elected  to  the  Five 
Himdred,  had  been  appointed  to  a  lucrative  but  uninfluential  office  in 
the  great  provincial  town — that  of  commissioner  for  the  department. 
Caroline,  the  youngest  sister,  was  blossoming  with  greater  promise  even 
than  Pauline.  Napoleon  stopped  a  few  days  under  his  mother's  roof  to 
regulate  these  matrimonial  proceedings  as  he  thought  most  advanta- 
geous. On  March  twenty-second  he  reached  the  headquarters  of  the 
Army  of  Italy.  The  command  was  assumed  with  simple  and  appropri- 
ate ceremonial.  The  short  despatch  to  the  Directory  announcing  this 
momentous  event  was  signed  "Bonaparte."  The  Corsican  nobleman 
di  Buonaparte  was  now  entirely  transformed  into  the  French  general 
Bonaparte.     The  process  had  been  long  and  difficult :  loyal  Corsican ; 


196 


LIFE  OP  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


Chap,  xxm  mercenary  cosmopolitan,  ready  as  an  expert  artillery  officer  for  service 
im  in  any  laud  or  under  any  banner ;  lastly,  Frenchman,  liberal,  and  revo- 
lutionaiy.  So  far  he  had  been  consistent  in  each  character  ;  for  years 
to  come  he  remained  stationary  as  a  sincere  French  patriot,  always  of 
course  with  an  eye  to  the  main  chance.  As  events  unfolded,  the  trans- 
formation began  again;  and  the  "adi-oit"  man,  taking  advantage  of 
every  chance,  became  once  more  a  cosmopolitan  —  this  time  not  as  a 
soldier,  but  as  a  statesman ;  not  as  a  sei-vant,  but  as  the  imperator 
universalis,  too  large  for  a  single  land,  determined  to  reimite  once  more 
all  "Western  Christendom,  and,  like  the  great  German  Charles  a  thou- 
sand years  before,  make  the  imperial  limits  conterminous  with  those  of 
orthodox  Christianity.  The  power  of  this  empire  was,  however,  to 
rest  on  a  Latin,  not  on  a  Teuton ;  not  on  Germany,  but  on  France.  Its 
splendor  was  not  to  be  embodied  in  the  Eternal  City,  but  in  Paris ;  and 
its  destiny  was  not  to  bring  in  a  Christian  millennium  for  the  glory 
of  God,  but  a  scientific  equihbrium  of  social  states  to  the  glory  of 
Napoleon's  dynasty,  permanent  because  universally  beneficent. 


33 
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CHAPTER  XXIV 

EUROPE  AND  THE  DIBECTOET 

The  FmsT  Coalition — England  and  Austria — The  Armies  of  the 
Republic — The  Treasury  op  the  Republic — The  Directory — 
The  Abbe  Sieyes — Carnot  as  a  Model  Citizen — His  Capacity 
AS  A  Military  Organizer — His  Personal  Character — His  Pol- 
icy— France  at  the  Opening  of  1796. 

THE  great  European  coalition  against  France  which  had  been  chap.  xxiv 
formed  in  1792  had  in  it  little  centripetal  force.  In  1795  Prussia,  i796 
Spain,  and  Tuscany  withdrew  for  reasons  ah-eady  indicated  in  another 
connection,  and  made  their  peace  on  terms  as  advantageous  as  they 
could  secure.  Holland  was  conquered  by  France  in  the  winter  of 
1794—95,  and  to  this  day  the  illustrated  school-books  recall  to  every 
child  of  the  French  RepubUc  the  haK-fabulous  tale  of  how  a  Dutch 
fleet  was  captured  by  French  hussars.  The  severity  of  the  cold  was 
long  remembered  as  phenomenal,  and  the  frozen  harbors  rendered 
naval  resistance  impossible,  while  cavalry  manoeuvered  with  safety  on 
the  thick  ice.  The  Batavian  Repubhc,  as  the  Dutch  commonwealth 
was  now  called,  was  reaUy  an  appanage  of  France. 

But  England  and  Austria,  though  deserted  by  their  strongest  allies, 
were  still  redoubtable  enemies.  The  pohcy  of  the  former  had  been  to 
command  the  seas  and  destroy  the  commerce  of  France  on  the  one 
hand,  on  the  other  to  foment  disturbance  in  the  coxmtry  itself  by  sub- 
sidizing the  royalists.  In  both  plans  she  had  been  successful:  her 
fleets  were  ubiquitous,  the  Chouan  and  Vendean  uprisings  were  peren- 
nial, and  the  emigrant  aristocrats  menaced  every  frontier.  Austria,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  once  been  soundly  thrashed.  Since  Frederick  the 
Great  had  wrested  Silesia  from  her,  and  thereby  set  Protestant  Prussia 
among  the  great  powers,  she  had  felt  that  the  balance  of  power  was 


298  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap.  XXIV  distiu'bed,  and  had  sought  everywhere  for  some  territorial  acquisition 
1796  to  restore  her  importance.  The  present  emperor,  Francis  II.,  and  his 
adroit  minister,  Thugut,  were  equally  stubborn  in  theii-  determination 
to  draw  something  worth  while  from  the  seething  caldron  before  the 
fires  of  war  were  extinguished.  They  thought  of  Bavaria,  of  Poland, 
of  Tiu'key,  and  of  Italy ;  in  the  last  countiy  especially  it  seemed  as  if 
the  term  of  hfe  had  been  reached  for  Venice,  and  that  at  her  impending 
demise  her  fair  domains  on  the  mainland  would  amply  replace  Silesia. 
Eussia  saw  her  ovni  advantage  in  the  weakening  either  of  Turkey  or 
of  the  central  European  powers,  and  became  the  silent  ally  of  Austria 
in  this  pohcy. 

The  great  armies  of  the  French  repubhc  had  been  created  by  Car- 
not,  with  the  aid  of  his  able  heutenant,  Dubois  de  Crance ;  they  were 
organized  and  directed  by  the  unassisted  genius  of  the  former.  Being 
the  fii'st  national  armies  which  Europe  had  known,  they  were  animated 
as  no  others  had  been  by  that  form  of  patriotism  wliich  rests  not  merely 
on  animal  instinct,  but  on  a  principle.  They  had  fought  with  joyous 
alacrity  for  the  assertion,  confirmation,  and  extension  of  the  rights  of 
man.  In  the  march  of  events  their  patriotism  had  brought  into  promi- 
nence Rousseau's  conception  of  natui'al  boundaries.  There  was  but 
one  opinion  in  the  entii-e  nation  concerning  its  frontiers,  to  vnt :  that 
Nice,  Savoy,  and  the  western  bank  of  the  Rhine  were  aU  by  nature 
a  part  of  France.  As  to  what  was  beyond,  opinion  had  been  divided, 
some  feeling  that  they  should  continue  fighting  in  order  to  impose  their 
own  system  wherever  possible,  while  others,  as  has  previously  been  ex- 
plained, were  either  indifferent,  or  else  maintained  that  the  nation 
should  fight  only  for  its  natural  fi'ontier.  To  the  support  of  the  latter 
sentiment  came  the  general  longing  for  peace  which  was  gradually 
overpowering  the  whole  country. 

No  people  ever  made  such  sacrifices  for  hberty  as  the  French  had 
made.  Through  years  of  famine  they  had  starved  with  grim  deter- 
mination, and  the  leanness  of  their  race  was  a  byword  for  more  than 
a  generation.  They  had  been  for  over  a  century  the  victims  of  a  sys- 
tem abhorrent  to  both  their  intelUgence  and  their  character — a  system 
of  absolutism  which  had  subsisted  on  foreign  wars  and  on  successful 
appeals  to  the  national  vainglory.  Now  at  last  they  were  to  aU  appear- 
ance exhausted,  their  treasury  was  bankrupt,  their  paper  money  was 
worthless,  their  agriculture  and  industries  were  paralyzed,  their  foreign 


^T.  26]  EUROPE    AND    THE    DIRECTORY  I99 

commerce  was  ruined ;  but  theii-  liberties  were  secm-e.  Theii'  soldiers  chap,  xxrv 
were  badly  fed,  badly  armed,  and  badly  clothed ;  but  they  were  free-  nso 
men  under  such  disciphne  as  is  possible  only  among  freemen.  Why 
should  not  their  success  in  the  arts  of  peace  be  as  great  as  in  the  glori- 
ous and  successful  wars  they  had  earned  on?  There  was,  therefore, 
both  in  the  country  and  in  the  government  a  considerable  and  ever 
growing  party  which  demanded  a  general  peace,  but  only  with  the 
"  natural "  frontier,  and  a  small  one  which  felt  peace  to  be  imperative 
even  if  the  nation  should  be  confined  within  its  old  boundaries. 

But  such  a  reasonable  and  moderate  pohcy  was  impossible  on  two 
accounts.  In  consequence  of  the  thu'teenth  of  Vendemiaire,  the  radi- 
cal party  still  survived  and  controlled  the  machinery  of  government; 
and,  in  spite  of  the  seeming  supremacy  of  moderate  ideas,  the  royahsts 
were  still  irreconcilable.  Intestine  disturbances,  therefore,  could  be 
kept  under  some  measure  of  control  only  by  an  aggressive  foreign  policy 
which  should  deceive  the  insurgent  elements  as  to  the  resources  of  the 
government.  Thus  far,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  the  armies,  so  far  as  they 
had  been  clothed  and  paid  and  fed  at  all,  had  been  fed  and  paid  and 
clothed  by  the  administration  at  Paris.  If  the  armies  should  stiU 
march  and  fight,  the  nation  would  be  impressed  by  the  strength  of  the 
Directory. 

The  Directory  was  by  no  means  a  homogeneous  body.  It  is  doubt- 
ful whether  Barras  was  a  sincere  repubhcan,  or  sincere  in  anything 
except  in  his  effort  to  keep  himseK  afloat  on  the  tide  of  the  times. 
It  has  been  believed  by  many  that  he  hoped  for  the  restoration  of 
monarchy  through  the  disgust  of  the  nation  with  such  intolerable  dis- 
orders as  they  would  soon  associate  with  the  name  of  republic.  His 
friendship  for  Greneral  Bonaparte  was  a  mixed  quantity ;  for  while  he 
imdoubtedly  wished  to  secure  for  the  state  in  any  futm-e  crisis  the  sup- 
port of  so  able  a  man,  he  had  at  the  same  time  used  him  as  a  sort  of 
social  scapegoat.  His  own  strength  lay  in  several  facts :  he  had  been 
Danton's  follower;  he  had  been  an  officer,  and  was  appointed  for  that  rea- 
son commanding  general  against  the  Paris  sections  ;  he  had  been  shrewd 
enough  to  choose  Bonaparte  as  his  agent  so  that  he  enjoyed  the  prestige 
of  Bonapaiie's  success ;  and  in  the  new  society  of  the  capital  he  was 
magnificent,  extravagant,  and  hcentious,  the  only  representative  in  the 
Directory  of  the  newly  aroused  passion  for  life  and  pleasiu'e,  his  col- 
leagues being  severe,  unostentatious,  and  economical  repubhcans. 


200 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


Chap.  XXIV  Barras's  muiu  support  in  the  government  was  Eewbell,  a  vigorous 
1^  Alsatian  and  a  bluff  democrat,  enthusiastic  for  the  Eevolution  and  its 
extension.  He  was  no  Frenchman  himself,  but  a  German,  and  thought 
that  the  German  lands — Holland,  Switzerland,  Germany  itself — should 
be  brought  into  the  great  movement.  Like  Barras,  who  needed  dis- 
order for  his  Orleanist  schemes  and  for  the  supply  of  his  lavish 
purse,  Rewbell  despised  the  new  constitution ;  but  for  a  different  rea- 
son. To  him  it  appeared  a  flimsy,  theoretical  document,  so  subdividing 
the  exercise  of  power  as  to  destroy  it  altogether.  His  role  was  in  the 
world  of  finance,  and  he  was  always  suspected,  though  unjustly,  of  im- 
holy  alhances  with  army  contractors  and  stock  manipulators.  Lare- 
veUiere  was  another  doctrinaire,  but,  in  comparison  with  Rewbell,  a 
bigot.  He  had  been  a  Girondist,  a  good  citizen,  and  active  in  the 
formation  of  the  new  constitution;  but  he  lacked  practical  common 
sense,  and  hated  the  Church  with  as  much  narrow  bitterness  as  the 
most  rancorous  modern  agnostic, — seeking,  however,  not  merely  its 
destmction,  but,  hke  Robespierre,  to  substitute  for  it  a  cult  of  reason 
and  humanity.  The  fourth  member  of  the  Directory,  Letoumeur,  was 
a  plain  soldier,  an  officer  in  the  engineers.  With  abundant  common 
sense  and  a  hard  head,  he,  too,  was  a  sincere  republican ;  but  he 
was  a  tolerant  one,  a  moderate,  kindly  man  like  his  friend  Camot,  with 
whom,  as  time  passed  by  and  there  was  gradually  developed  an  ureconcU- 
able  spht  ia  the  Directory,  he  always  voted  in  a  minority  of  two  against 
the  other  three. 

At  first  the  notorious  Abbe  Sieyes  had  been  chosen  a  member  of 
the  executive.  He  was  both  deep  and  dark,  Uke  Bonaparte,  to  whom  he 
later  rendered  valuable  services.  His  ever  famous  pamphlet,  which  in 
1789  triumphantly  proved  that  the  Third  Estate  was  neither  more  nor 
less  than  the  French  nation,  had  made  many  think  him  a  radical.  As 
years  passed  on  he  became  the  oracle  of  his  time,  and  as  such  acquired 
an  enormous  influence  even  in  the  days  of  the  Terror,  which  he  was 
helpless  to  avert,  and  which  he  viewed  with  horror  and  disgust.  What- 
ever may  have  been  his  original  ideas,  he  appears  to  have  been  for  some 
time  after  the  thirteenth  of  Vendemiaire  an  Orleanist,  the  head  of  a 
party  which  desired  no  longer  a  strict  hereditary  and  absolute  mon- 
archy, but  thought  that  in  the  son  of  Phihppe  Egahte  they  had  a  use- 
ful prince  to  preside  over  a  constitutional  kingdom.  Perhaps  for  this 
reason,  perhaps  for  the  one  he  gave,  which  was  that  the  new  consti- 


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^J1 


^T.26]  EUROPE    AND    THE    DIRECTORY  201 

tution  was  not  yet  the  right  one,  he  flatly  refused  the  place  in  the  chap.  xxiv 
Directory  which  was  offered  to  him.  179c 

It  was  as  a  substitute  for  this  dangerous  visionary  that  Carnot  was 
made  a  director.  He  was  now  in  his  forty-thii-d  year,  and  at  the  height 
of  his  powers.  In  him  was  embodied  all  that  was  moderate  and  sound, 
consequently  all  that  was  enduring,  in  the  French  Revolution ;  he  was 
a  thorough  scholar,  and  his  treatise  on  the  metaphysics  of  the  calculus 
forms  an  important  chapter  in  the  history  of  mathematical  physics. 
As  an  officer  in  the  engineers  he  had  attained  the  highest  distinction, 
while  as  minister  of  war  he  had  shown  himself  an  organizer  and  strat- 
egist of  the  first  order.  But  his  highest  aim  was  to  be  a  model  French 
citizen.  In  his  family  relations  as  son,  husband,  and  father,  he  was 
held  by  his  neighbors  to  be  a  pattern ;  in  his  pubhc  life  he  strove  with 
equal  sincerity  of  purpose  to  illustrate  the  highest  ideals  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  Such  was  the  ardor  of  his  repubUcanism  that  no  man 
nor  party  in  France  was  so  repugnant  but  that  he  would  use  either  one 
or  both,  if  necessary,  for  his  country's  welfare,  although  he  was  hke 
Chatham  in  his  lofty  scorn  for  parties.  To  him  as  a  patriot,  therefore, 
France,  as  against  the  outer  world,  was  first,  no  matter  what  her  gov- 
ernment might  be ;  but  the  France  he  yearned  for  was  a  land  regener- 
ated by  the  gospel  of  hmnanity,  awakened  to  the  highest  activity  by 
the  equahty  of  aU  before  the  law,  refined  by  that  self-abnegation  of 
every  man  which  makes  all  men  brothers,  and  destroys  the  menace 
of  the  law. 

And  yet  he  was  no  dreamer.  While  a  member  of  the  National  As- 
sembly he  had  displayed  such  practical  common  sense  in  his  chosen 
field  of  mihtary  science,  that  in  1793  he  was  intrusted  by  the  Com- 
mittee of  Safety  with  the  control  of  the  war.  The  standard  of  rank 
and  command  was  no  longer  birth  nor  seniority  nor  infiuence,  but 
merit.  The  wild  and  ignorant  hordes  of  men  which  the  conscrip- 
tion law  had  brought  into  the  field  were  something  hitherto  miknoAvn 
in  Europe.  It  was  Carnot  who  organized,  clothed,  fed,  and  di'iUed 
them.  It  was  he  who  devised  the  new  tactics  and  evolved  the  new 
and  comprehensive  plans  which  made  his  national  armies  the  power 
they  became.  It  was  in  Carnot's  administration  that  the  young  gen- 
erals fii'st  came  to  the  fore.  It  was  by  his  favor  that  almost  eveiy 
man  of  that  galaxy  of  modem  warriors  who  so  long  dazzled  Europe 
by  their  feats  of  arms  fii'st  appeared  as  a  candidate  for  advancement. 


OQ2  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

CHAP.  XXIV  Moreau,    Macdonald,    Joiu-dan,    Bernadotte,    Kleber,    Mortier,    Ney, 

1796       Pichegru,  Desaix,  Bertliier,  Augereau,  and  Bonaparte  himself, — each 

one  of  these  was  the  product  of  Carnot's  system.     He  was  the  creator 

of  the  armies  which  for  a  time  made  all  Europe  tributaiy  to  France. 

Throughout  an  epoch  which  laid  bare  the  meanness  of  most  natures,  ' 
his  character  was  unsmu-ched.  He  began  life  under  the  ancient  re- 
gime by  writing  and  publishing  a  eulogy  on  Vauban,  who  had  been 
disgi-aced  for  his  plain  speaking  to  Louis  XIV.  When  called  to  a 
share  in  the  government  he  was  the  advocate  of  a  strong  nationaUty, 
of  a  just  administration  within,  and  of  a  fearless  front  to  the  world. 
While  minister  of  war  he  on  one  occasion  actually  left  his  post  and 
hastened  to  Maubeuge,  where  defeat  was  threatening  Jourdan,  devised 
and  put  into  operation  a  new  plan,  led  in  person  the  victorious  assault, 
and  then  returned  to  Paris  to  inspire  the  country  and  the  army  with 
news  of  the  victory;  all  this  he  did  as  if  it  were  commonplace  duty, 
without  advertising  himself  by  parade  or  ceremony.  Even  Robespierre 
had  trembled  before  his  biting  ii'ony,  and  yet  dared  not,  as  he  wished, 
include  him  among  his  victims.  After  the  events  of  Thermidor,  when 
it  was  proposed  to  execute  all  those  who  had  authorized  the  bloody 
deeds  of  the  Terror,  excepting  Camot,  he  prevented  the  sweeping 
measm-e  by  standing  in  his  place  to  say  that  he  too  had  acted  with 
the  rest,  had  held  like  them  the  conviction  that  the  country  could 
not  otherwise  be  saved,  and  that  therefore  he  must  share  their  fate. 

In  the  milder  hght  of  the  new  constitution  the  dark  blot  on  his  rec- 
ord thus  fi-ankly  confessed  gi-ew  less  repulsive  as  the  continued  dignity 
and  sincerity  of  his  nature  asserted  themselves  in  a  tolerance  which  he 
beheved  to  be  as  needful  now  as  ruthless  severity  once  had  been.  For 
a  year  the  glory  of  French  arms  had  been  echpsed :  his  dominant  idea 
was  fii'st  to  restore  their  splendor,  then  to  make  peace  with  honor  and 
give  the  new  life  of  his  country  an  oppoi-timity  for  expansion  in  a  mild 
and  firm  administration  of  the  new  laws.  If  he  had  been  dictator  in 
the  crisis,  no  doubt  his  plan,  arduous  as  was  the  task,  might  have  been 
reahzed ;  but,  with  Letourneur  in  a  minority  of  two,  against  an  unprin- 
cipled adventurer  leading  two  bigots,  it  was  impossible  to  secure  the 
executive  unity  necessary  for  success. 

At  the  opening  of  the  year  1796,  therefore,  the  situation  of  France 
was  quite  as  distracting  as  ever,  and  the  foimdation  of  her  institutions 
more  than  ever  unstable.     There  was  hopeless  division  in  the  execu- 


^T.  26]  EUROPE  AND   THE    DIRECTORY  203 

tive,  and  no  coordination  under  the  constitution  between  it  and  the  Chap.  xxrv 
other  branches  of  the  government,  while  the  legislatiu'e  did  not  repre-  i79o 
sent  the  people.  The  treasury  was  empty,  famine  was  as  wide-spread 
as  ever,  administration  vii-tually  non-existent.  The  army  was  unsuc- 
cessful, dispirited,  and  unpaid.  Himger  knows  little  discipline,  and 
with  temporary  loss  of  discipline  the  morals  of  the  troops  had  been  rm- 
dermined.  To  save  the  constitution  public  opuiion  mvist  be  diverted 
from  internal  affairs,  and  conciliated.  To  that  end  the  German  emperor 
must  be  forced  to  yield  the  Rhine  frontier,  and  money  must  be  found 
at  least  for  the  most  pressing  necessities  of  the  ai-my  and  of  the  govern- 
ment. If  the  repubhc  could  secure  for  France  her  natural  borders,  and 
command  a  peace  by  land,  it  might  hope  for  eventual  success  in  the 
conflict  with  England. 


CHAPTER  XXY 

BONAPAETE  ON  A  GREAT  STAGE 
BONAPAETE     AND     THE    AkMY    OF    ItALY — ThE    SySTEM    OF    PiLLAGE — 

The  General  as  a  Despot — The  Republican  Armies  and  French 
Politics — Italy  as  the  Focal  Point — Condition  of  Italy — 
Bonaparte's  Sagacity — His  Plan  of  Action — His  Army  and 
Gtenerals — Strength  of  the  Army  of  Italy — The  Napoleonic 
Maxims  of  Warfare — Advance  of  Military  Science — Bona- 
parte's Achievements — His  Financial  Policy — Effects  of  his 
Success. 

Chap.  XXV  f  MHE  struggle  vs^Mcli  was  imminent  was  for  notliing  less  than  a  new 
1796  JL  lease  of  national  life  for  France.  It  dawned  on  many  minds  that 
ia  sucli  a  combat  changes  of  a  revolutionary  natiu*e  —  as  regarded  not 
merely  the  provisioning  and  management  of  armies,  as  regarded  not 
merely  the  grand  strategy  to  be  adopted  and  carried  out  by  France,  but 
as  regarded  the  very  structure  and  relations  of  other  European  nations 
— would  be  justifiable.  But  to  be  justifiable  they  must  be  adequate ; 
and  to  be  adequate  they  must  be  unexpected  and  thorough.  What 
should  they  be  ?  The  (Edipus  who  solves  this  riddle  for  France  is  the 
man  of  the  hour.  He  was  found  in  Bonaparte.  What  mean  these  ring- 
ing words  from  the  headquarters  at  Nice,  which,  on  March  twenty- 
seventh,  1796,  feU  on  the  ears  of  a  hungry,  eager  soldiery  and  a  startled 
world?  "Soldiers,  you  are  naked,  badly  fed.  The  government  owes 
you  much ;  it  can  give  you  nothing.  Your  long-suffering,  the  coiu-age 
you  show  among  these  crags,  are  splendid,  but  they  bring  you  no  glory; 
not  a  ray  is  reflected  upon  you.  I  wish  to  lead  you  into  the  most  fertile 
plains  of  the  world.  Rich  provinces,  great  towns,  will  be  in  your 
power ;  there  you  will  find  honor,  glory,  and  riches.  Soldiers  of  Italy, 
can  you  be  f oimd  lacking  in  honor,  courage,  or  constancy  ?  " 


^T.  26]  BONAPARTE    ON    A    GREAT    STAGE  205 

Such  language  has  but  one  meaning.  By  a  previous  understanding  chap.  xxv 
with  the  Directory,  the  French  army  was  to  be  paid,  the  French  trea-  i™6 
sury  to  be  replenished,  at  the  expense  of  the  lands  which  were  the  seat 
of  war.  Corsicans  in  the  French  service  had  long  been  suspected  of 
sometimes  serving  their  own  interests  to  the  detriment  of  then-  adopted 
countiy.  Bonaparte  was  no  exception,  and  occasionally  he  felt  it  neces- 
sary to  justify  himself.  For  example,  he  had  carefully  explained  that 
his  marriage  bound  him  to  the  republic  by  still  another  tie.  Yet  it  ap- 
pears that  his  promotion,  his  engagement  with  the  directors,  and  his 
devotion  to  the  republic  were  all  concerned  primarily  with  personal 
ambition,  though  secondarily  and  incidentally  with  the  perpetuation  of 
a  government  professedly  based  on  the  Revolution.  From  the  outset 
of  Napoleon's  independent  career,  something  of  the  future  dictator  ap- 
pears. This  implied  promise  that  pillage,  plunder,  and  rapine  should 
henceforth  go  unpunished  in  order  that  his  soldiers  might  hne  their 
pockets,  is  the  indication  of  a  settled  pohcy  which  was  more  definitely 
expressed  in  each  successive  proclamation  as  it  issued  from  his  pen.  It 
was  repeated  whenever  new  energy  was  to  be  inspired  into  faltering 
columns,  whenever  some  unparalleled  effort  in  a  dark  design  was  to  be 
demanded  from  the  rank  and  file  of  the  army,  until  at  last  a  point-blank 
promise  was  made  that  every  man  should  return  to  France  with  money 
enough  in  his  pocket  to  become  a  landowner. 

There  was  magic  in  the  new  spell,  the  charm  never  ceased  to  work; 
with  that  first  call  from  Nice  began  the  transformation  of  the  French 
army,  fighting  now  no  longer  for  principle,  but  for  glory,  victory,  and 
booty.  Its  leader,  if  successful,  woidd  be  in  no  sense  a  constitutional 
general,  but  a  despotic  conqueror.  Outwardly  gracious,  and  with  no 
irritating  condescension ;  considerate  wherever  mercy  would  strengthen 
his  reputation;  fuUy  aware  of  the  influence  a  dramatic  situation  or  a 
pregnant  aphorism  has  upon  the  common  mind,  and  using  both  -with 
mastery;  appealing  as  a  cHmax  to  the  powerful  motive  of  greed  in 
every  heart,  Bonaparte  was  soon  to  be  not  alone  the  general  of  con- 
summate genius,  not  alone  the  organizing  lawgiver  of  conquered  lands 
and  peoples,  but,  what  was  essential  to  his  whole  career,  the  idol  of  an 
army  which  was  not,  as  of  old,  the  servant  of  a  great  nation,  but,  as 
the  new  era  had  transformed  it,  the  nation  itself. 

The  pecuUar  relation  of  Bonaparte  to  Italy,  to  Corsica,  and  to  the 
Convention  had  made  him,  as  early  as  1794,  while  yet  but  chief  of  artil- 


206  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap.  XXV  leiy,  the  real  director  of  the  Amiy  of  Italy.  He  had  no  personal  share 
irae  in  the  victorious  campaign  of  that  year,  but  its  victories,  as  he  justly 
claimed,  were  due  to  his  plans.  During  the  unsuccessful  Corsican  ex- 
pedition of  the  following  winter,  for  which  he  was  hut  indirectly  re- 
sponsible, the  Austro-Sardinians  in  Piedmont  had  taken  advantage  of 
the  absence  of  so  many  French  troops  to  undo  all  that  had  so  far  been 
accomphshed.  Dui"ing  the  summer  of  1795  Spain  and  Prussia  had  made 
peace  with  France.  In  consequence  all  northern  Em^ope  had  been  de- 
clared neutral,  and  the  field  of  operations  on  the  Rhine  had  been  con- 
fined to  the  central  zone  of  Germany,  while  at  the  same  time  the 
French  soldiers  which  had  formed  the  Aimy  of  the  Pyrenees  had  been 
transferred  to  the  Maritime  Alps.  In  1796,  therefore,  the  great  ques- 
tion was  whether  the  Army  of  the  Rhine  or  that  of  Italy  was  to  be  the 
chief  weapon  of  offense  against  Austria. 

Divided  interests  and  wai-ped  convictions  quickly  created  two  opin- 
ions in  the  French  nation,  each  of  which  was  held  with  intensity  and 
bitterness  by  its  supporters.  So  far  the  Army  of  the  Rhine  was 
much  the  stronger,  and  the  Emperor  had  concentrated  his  strength  to 
oppose  it.  But  the  wisest  heads  saw  that  Austria  might  be  flanked  by 
way  of  Italy.  The  gate  to  Lombardy  was  guarded  by  the  sturdy  httle 
army  of  Victor  Amadeus,  assisted  by  a  small  Austrian  force.  If  the 
house  of  Savoy,  which  was  said  to  wear  at  its  girdle  the  keys  of 
the  Alps,  could  be  conquered  and  brought  to  make  a  separate  peace, 
the  Austrian  army  could  be  ovei*whelmed,  and  a  highway  to  Vienna 
opened  first  through  the  plains  of  Lombardy,  then  by  the  Austrian 
Tyrol,  or  else  by  the  Venetian  Alps.  Strangely  enough,  the  plainest 
and  most  forcible  exposition  of  this  plan  was  made  by  an  emigi-ant 
in  London,  a  certain  Dutheil,  for  the  benefit  of  England  and  Austria. 
But  the  Allies  were  deaf  to  his  warnings,  while  in  the  mean  time 
Bonaparte  enforced  the  same  idea  upon  the  French  authorities,  and 
secured  their  acceptance  of  it.  Both  he  and  they  were  the  more  in- 
clined to  the  scheme  because  once  already  it  had  been  successfully 
initiated,  because  the  general,  having  studied  Italy  and  its  people, 
thoroughly  understood  what  contributions  might  be  levied  on  them, 
because  the  Army  of  the  Rhine  was  radically  repubhcan  and  knew 
its  own  strength,  because  therefore  the  personal  ambitions  of  Bona- 
parte, and  in  fact  the  very  existence  of  the  Directory,  alike  depended 
on  success  elsewhere  than  in  central  Europe. 


^T.  2G]  BONAPARTE    ON    A    GREAT    STAGE  207 

Having  been  for  centuries  the  battle-field  of  rival  dynasties,  Italy,  Chap,  xxv 
though  a  geographical  unit  with  natural  fi-ontiers  more  marked  than  noe 
those  of  any  other  land,  and  with  mhabitants  faMy  homogeneous  in 
bu'th,  speech,  and  institutions,  was  neither  a  nation  nor  a  family  of 
kindi-ed  nations,  but  a  congeries  of  heterogeneous  states.  Some  of 
these,  hke  Venice  and  Genoa,  boasted  the  proud  title  of  repubhes; 
they  were  in  reahty  narrow,  conunercial,  even  pu'atieal  ohgarchies, 
destitute  of  any  vigorous  political  hfe.  The  Pope,  like  other  petty 
rulers,  was  but  a  temporal  prince,  despotic,  and  not  even  enhghtened, 
as  was  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.  Naples  and  the  Milanese  both 
groaned  under  the  yoke  of  foreign  rulers,  and  the  only  passable  gov- 
ernment in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  was  that  of  the  house  of 
Savoy  in  Piedmont  and  Sardinia,  lands  where  the  revolutionary  spuit 
of  hberty  was  most  extended  and  active.  The  petty  coui'ts,  hke  those 
of  Parma  and  Modena,  were  nests  of  intrigue  and  corruj)tion.  There 
was,  of  course,  in  every  place  that  saving  remnant  of  high-minded  men 
which  is  always  providentially  left  as  a  seed ;  but  the  people  as  a  whole 
were  ignorant  and  enervated.  The  accumulations  of  ages,  gained  by 
an  extensive  and  lucrative  commerce,  or  by  the  tiUing  of  a  generous 
soil,  had  not  been  altogether  dissipated  by  misrule,  and  there  was  even 
yet  rich  store  of  money  in  many  of  the  venerable  and  still  splendid  cities. 
Nowhere  in  the  ancient  seats  of  the  Roman  commonwealth,  whose  mem- 
ory was  now  the  cherished  fashion  in  France,  could  anything  more 
than  a  reflection  of  French  revolutionary  principles  be  discerned ;  the 
rights  of  man  and  repubhcan  doctrine  were  attractive  subjects  of  de- 
bate in  many  cities  throughout  the  peninsula,  but  there  was  httle  of 
that  fierce  devotion  to  then*  reaUzation  so  prevalent  beyond  the  Alps. 

The  sagacity  of  Bonaparte  saw  his  account  in  these  conditions. 
Being  a  professed  repubhcan,  he  could  announce  himself  as  the  regen- 
erator of  society,  and  the  liberator  of  a  people.  If,  as  has  been  sup- 
posed, he  abeady  dreamed  of  a  throne,  where  could  one  be  so  easily 
founded  with  the  certainty  of  its  endurance  ?  As  a  conqueror  he  would 
have  a  divided,  helpless,  and  wealthy  people  at  his  feet.  If  the  old 
flame  of  Corsican  ambition  were  not  yet  extinguished,  he  felt  perhaps 
that  he  could  wreak  the  vengeance  of  a  defeated  and  angry  people  upon 
Genoa,  their  oppressor  for  ages. 

His  preparations  began  as  early  as  the  autumn  of  1795,  when,  with 
Camot's  assistance,  the  united  Pyrenean  and  Itahan  armies  were  di- 


208 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


Chap.  XXV  rected  to  the  old  task  of  opening  the  roads  thi-ough  the  mountains  and 
1796  by  the  sea-shore  into  Lombardy  and  central  Italy.  They  won  the 
battle  of  Loano,  which  secured  the  Maritime  Alps  once  more ;  but  a 
long  winter  amid  these  inclement  peaks  had  left  the  army  wretched 
and  destitute  of  every  necessity.  It  had  been  difficult  throughout 
that  winter  to  maintain  even  the  Army  of  the  Interior  in  the  heart 
of  France ;  the  only  chance  for  that  of  Italy  was  movement.  A  com- 
pleted plan  of  action  was  forwarded  froni  Paris  in  Jamiary.  But 
Scherer,  the  commanding  general,  and  his  staff  were  outraged,  refusing 
to  consider  its  suggestions,  either  those  for  supplying  their  necessities 
in  Lombardy,  or  those  for  the  daring  and  ventiu*esome  operations 
necessary  to  reach  that  goal. 

Bonaparte,  who  could  invent  such  schemes,  alone  could  reahze 
them ;  and  the  task  was  intrusted  to  him.  For  the  next  ten  weeks  no 
sort  of  preparation  was  neglected.  The  nearly  empty  chest  of  the  Direc- 
tory was  swept  clean ;  from  that  source  the  new  commander  received 
forty-seven  thousand  five  hundred  francs  in  cash,  and  drafts  for  twenty 
thousand  more ;  forced  loans  for  considerable  siuns  were  made  in  Tou- 
lon and  Marseilles ;  and  Salicetti  levied  contributions  of  grain  and 
forage  m  Genoa  according  to  the  plan  which  had  been  preconcerted  be- 
tween him  and  the  general  in  their  Jacobin  days.  The  anny  which 
Bonaparte  finally  set  in  motion  was  therefore  a  fine  engine  of  war.  Its 
immediate  necessities  relieved,  the  veterans  warmed  to  their  work,  and 
that  notable  promise  of  booty  worked  them  to  the  pitch  of  genuine 
enthusiasm.  The  young  commander,  moreover,  was  as  circumspect  as 
a  man  of  the  first  ability  alone  could  be  when  about  to  make  the  ven- 
ture of  his  life  and  play  for  the  stake  of  a  world.  His  generals  of 
division  were  themselves  men  of  mark — personages  no  less  than  Mas- 
sena,  Augereau,  Laharpe,  and  Serurier.  But  what  the  commander-in- 
chief  had  to  do  was  done  with  such  smoothness  and  skill  that  even 
they  could  find  no  ground  for  carping;  and  though  at  first  cold  and 
reticent,  before  long  they  yielded  to  the  infiuences  which  filled  with 
excitement  the  very  au'  they  breathed. 

At  this  moment,  besides  the  National  Guard,  France  had  an  army 
and  navy  the  effective  fighting  force  of  which  numbered  upward  of 
half  a  milhon.  Divided  into  nine  armies  instead  of  fourteen  as  first 
planned,  there  were  in  reahty  but  seven ;  of  these,  fom-  were  of  minor 
importance:   a  small,  skeleton  Army  of  the  Interior,  a  force  in  the 


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iET.  2G]  BONAPARTE    ON    A    GREAT    STAGE  209 

West  under  Hoche  twice  as  large  and  with  ranks  better  filled,  a  fairly  chap.  xxv 
strong  ai-my  in  the  North  under  Macdonald,  and  a  similar  one  in  the  iTsIe 
Alps  under  Kellermaun,  with  Berthier  and  Vaubois  as  lieutenants, 
which  soon  became  a  part  of  Bonaparte's  force.  These  were,  if  possi- 
ble, to  preserve  internal  order  and  to  watch  England,  while  thi-ee  great 
active  organizations  were  to  combine  for  the  overthrow  of  Austria.  On 
the  Rhine  were  two  of  the  active  armies — one  near  Diisseldoi-f  under 
Jom-dan,  another  near  Strasbiu'g  under  Moreau.  At  the  portals  of 
Italy  was  Bonaparte,  with  a  third,  soon  to  be  the  most  active  of  all. 
At  the  outset  he  had,  all  told,  about  forty-five  thousand  men ;  but  the 
campaign  which  he  conducted  had  before  its  close  assumed  such  dimen- 
sions that  in  spite  of  its  losses  the  Army  of  Italy  contained  nearly 
double  that  number  of  men  ready  for  the  field,  besides  the  ganison 
troops  and  invaUds.  The  figiu'es  on  the  records  of  the  war  department 
were  invariably  much  greater ;  but  an  enormous  percentage,  sometimes 
as  high  as  a  thii"d,  was  always  in  the  hospitals,  while  often  as  many  as 
twenty  thousand  were  left  behind  to  hold  various  fortresses.  Bona- 
parte, for  evident  reasons,  uniformly  represented  his  effective  as  smaller 
than  it  was,  and  stunned  the  ears  of  the  Du-ectory  with  ever  reiterated 
demands  for  reinforcement.  A  dispassionate  estimate  would  fix  the 
number  of  his  troops  in  the  field  at  any  one  time  during  these  opera- 
tions as  not  lower  than  thirty-five  thousand  nor  much  higher  than 
eighty  thousand. 

Another  element  of  the  utmost  importance  entered  into  the  coming 
cajnpaign.  The  old  vicious  system  by  which  a  vigilant  democracy  had 
jealously  prescribed  to  its  generals  every  step  to  be  taken  was  swept 
away  by  Bonaparte,  who  as  Robespierre's  "  man  "  had  been  thoroughly 
familiar  with  its  workings  from  the  other  end.  He  was  now  com- 
mander-in-chief, and  he  insisted  on  the  absolute  unity  of  command  as 
essential  to  the  economy  of  time.  This  being  granted,  his  equipment 
was  complete.  It  wiU  be  remembered  that  in  1794  he  had  explained  to 
his  patrons  how  warfare  in  the  field  was  hke  a  siege :  by  du-ecting  all 
one's  force  to  a  single  point  a  breach  might  be  made,  and  the  equihb- 
rium  of  opposition  destroyed.  To  this  conception  of  concentration  for 
attack  he  had,  in  concert  with  the  Directory,  added  another,  that  of 
expansion  in  a  given  territory  for  sustenance.  He  had  still  a  thii-d, 
that  war  must  be  made  as  intense  and  awful  as  possible  in  order  to 
make  it  short,  and  thus  to  diminish  its  horrors.     Trite  and  simple  as 

28 


210 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


Chap.  XXV  these  aphorisms  now  appear,  they  were  all  origmal  and  absolutely  new, 
1796  at  least  in  the  quick,  fierce  application  of  them  made  by  Bonaparte.  The 
traditions  of  chivahy,  the  incessant  warfare  of  two  centuries  and  a 
half,  the  humane  conceptions  of  the  Chm-ch,  the  regard  for  human  life, 
the  difficulty  of  communications,  the  scarcity  of  munitions  and  arms, — 
all  these  and  other  elements  had  combined  to  make  war  under  mediocre 
generals  a  stately  ceremonial,  and  to  diminish  the  number  of  actual  bat- 
tles, which  took  place,  when  they  did,  only  after  careful  preparation,  as 
an  impleasant  necessity,  by  a  sort  of  common  agreement,  and  with  the 
ceremony  of  a  duel. 

Turenne,  Marlborough,  and  Frederick,  all  men  of  cold-blooded  tem- 
perament, had  been  the  greatest  generals  of  their  respective  ages,  and 
were  successful  much  m  proportion  to  their  lack  of  sentiment  and 
disregard  of  conventionahties.  Their  notions  and  their  conduct  dis- 
played the  same  instincts  as  those  of  Bonaparte,  and  their  minds  were 
enlarged  by  a  study  of  great  campaigns  hke  that  which  had  fed  his 
inchoate  genius  and  had  made  possible  his  consummate  achievement. 
He  had  much  the  same  apparatus  for  warfare  as  they.  The  men  of 
Europe  had  not  materially  changed  in  stature,  weight,  education,  or 
morals  since  the  closing  years  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  The  roads  were 
somewhat  better,  the  conformation  of  mountains,  hills,  and  valleys  was 
better  knovm,  and  hke  his  great  predecessors,  though  unhke  his  con- 
temporaries, Bonaparte  knew  the  use  of  a  map ;  but  in  the  main  httle 
was  changed  in  the  conditions  for  moving  and  manoeuvering  troops. 
News  traveled  slowly,  for  the  fastest  couriers  rode  fi-om  Nice  to  Paris 
or  from  Paris  to  Berlin  in  seven  days.  Muskets  and  small  firearms  of 
every  description  were  httle  improved.  PiTissia  actually  claimed  that 
she  had  been  forced  to  negotiate  for  peace  because  France  controlled 
the  production  of  gun-flints.  There  had  been  some  improvement  in  the 
forging  of  cannon,  and  the  ariillery  arm  was  on  the  whole  more  effi- 
cient. In  France  there  had  been  considerable  change  for  the  better  in 
the  manual  and  in  tactics;  the  rest  of  Europe  followed  the  old  and 
more  formal  ways.  Outside  the  repubhc,  ceremony  still  held  sway  in 
court  and  camp ;  youthful  energy  was  stifled  in  routine ;  and  the  gen- 
erals opposed  to  Bonaparte  were  for  the  most  part  men  advanced  m 
years,  wedded  to  tradition,  and  incapable  of  quickly  adapting  theu" 
ideas  to  meet  advances  and  attacks  based  on  conceptions  radically  dif- 
ferent from  their  own.    It  was  at  times  a  positive  misery  to  the  new 


^T.  26]  BONAPARTE    ON    A    GREAT    STAGE  211 

conqueror  that  his  opponents  were  such  inefficient  fossils.  Young  and  Chap,  xxv 
at  the  same  time  capable ;  using  the  natural  advantages  of  his  territory  im 
to  support  the  bravery  of  his  troops ;  with  a  mind  which  was  not  only 
accurate  and  decisive,  but  comprehensive  in  its  observations ;  unham- 
pered by  control  or  by  principle ;  opposed  to  generals  who  could  not 
think  of  a  boy  of  twenty-six  as  their  equal ;  with  the  best  army  and 
the  finest  theater  of  war  in  Euroj^e;  finally,  with  a  genius  indepen- 
dently developed,  and  with  conceptions  of  his  profession  which  summar- 
ized the  experience  of  his  greatest  predecessors,  Bonaparte  performed 
feats  that  seemed  miraculous  even  when  compared  with  those  of 
Hoche,  Jom-dan,  or  Moreau,  which  had  already  so  astomided  the  world. 

Within  eleven  days  the  Austrians  and  Sardinians  were  separated, 
the  latter  having  been  defeated  and  forced  to  sign  an  armistice.  After 
a  rest  of  two  days,  a  fortnight  saw  him  victorious  in  Lombardy,  and 
entering  Milan  as  a  conqueror.  Two  weeks  elapsed,  and  again  he  set 
forth  to  reduce  to  his  sway  in  less  than  a  month  the  most  of  central 
Italy.  Against  an  enemy  now  desperate  and  at  bay  his  operations  fell 
into  four  divisions,  each  resulting  in  an  advance — the  first,  of  nine 
days,  agamst  Wurmser  and  Quasdanowich ;  the  second,  of  sixteen  days, 
against  Wui'mser;  the  third,  of  twelve  days,  against  Alvinczy;  and  the 
fourth,  of  thirty  days,  until  he  captured  Mantua  and  opened  the  moun- 
tain passes  to  his  aiTQy.  Within  fifteen  days  after  beginning  hostihties 
against  the  Pope,  he  forced  him  to  sign  the  treaty  of  Tolentino ;  and 
within  thirty-six  days  of  their  setting  foot  on  the  road  from  Man- 
tua to  Vienna,  the  French  were  at  Leoben,  distant  only  ninety  miles 
from  the  Austrian  capital,  and  dictating  terms  to  the  empire.  In 
the  year  between  March  twenty-seventh,  1796,  and  Apiil  seventh, 
1797,  Bonaparte  humbled  the  most  haughty  dynasty  in  Europe,  top- 
pled the  central  Eiu'opean  state  system,  and  initiated  the  process 
which  has  given  a  predominance  apparently  final  to  Prussia,  then 
considered  but  as  a  parvenu. 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  enormous  sums  of  money  which  he 
exacted  for  the  conduct  of  a  war  that  he  chose  to  say  was  can-ied  on  to 
emancipate  Italy.  The  soldiers  of  his  army  were  well  dressed,  weU  fed, 
and  well  equipped  from  the  day  of  then*  entiy  into  Milan ;  the  aiTcars 
of  their  pay  were  not  only  settled,  but  they  were  given  license  to  prey 
on  the  country  until  a  point  was  reached  which  seemed  to  jeopardize 
success,  when  common  piUage  was  promptly  stopped  by  the  severest 


2j^2  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap.  XXV  examples.  The  treasmy  of  the  Directory  was  not.filled  as  were  those  of 
1796  the  conquering  officers,  but  it  was  no  longer  empty.  In  short,  France 
reached  the  apex  of  her  revolutionary  greatness ;  and  as  she  was  now 
the  foremost  power  on  the  Continent,  the  shaky  monarchies  in  neigh- 
boring lands  were  forced  to  consider  again  questions  which  in  1795  they 
had  hoped  were  settled.  As  Bonaparte  foresaw,  the  destinies  of  Em-ope 
had  indeed  hung  on  the  fate  of  Italy. 

Europe  had  grown  accustomed  to  military  surprises  in  the  few  pre- 
ceding years.  The  armies  of  the  French  repubhc,  fired  by  devotion  to 
then-  principles  and  their  nation,  had  accompKshed  marvels.  But 
nothing  in  the  least  foreshadowing  this  had  been  wrought  even  by 
them.  Then,  as  now,  cm-iosity  was  inflamed,  and  the  most  careful 
study  was  expended  in  analyzing  the  process  by  which  such  miracles 
had  been  performed.  The  investigators  and  their  readers  were  so  over- 
powered by  the  spectacle  and  its  results  that  they  were  prevented  by 
a  sort  of  awe-stricken  credulity  from  recognizing  the  truth ;  and  even 
yet  the  notion  of  a  supernatm-al  influence  fighting  on  Bonaparte's  side 
has  not  entirely  disappeared.  But  the  facts  as  we  know  them  reveal 
cleverness  deahng  with  incapacity,  energy  such  as  had  not  yet  been 
seen  fighting  with  languor,  an  embodied  principle  of  great  vitahty 
warring  with  a  lifeless,  vanishing  system.  The  consequences  were 
startling,  but  logical ;  the  details  sound  like  a  romance  from  the  land 
of  Ebhs. 


IN    TUE    CULLECTIUN     UF    UUilHAl'     CUASLON 


MARSHAL   ANDRE   MASSENA 

UUKE    OF    RIVOLI,    PRINCE    OF    ESSLING 


HK    PAINTlNtl     HY    ANTnlNK-JKAN    OR»S 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

the  conquest  of  piedmont  and  the  milanese 

The  Akmies  of  Austria  and  Saedenia — Montenotte  and  Millesimo 

—  MONDOVI    AND    ChEKASCO  —  CONSEQUENCES     OF    THE    CAMPAIGN  — 

The  Plains  of  Lombakdy — The  Crossing  of  the  Po — Advance 
TOWAED  Milan — Lodi — Retreat  of  the  Austrians — Moral  Ef- 
fects OF  Lodi. 

VICTOR  AMADEUS  of  Sardinia  was  not  unaccustomed  to  the  chap.  xxvi 
loss  of  territory  in  the  north,  because  from  immemorial  times  his  i796 
house  had  relinquished  picturesque  but  unfruitful  lands  beyond  the 
Alps  to  gain  fertile  fields  below  them.  It  was  a  hard  blow,  to  be  sure, 
that  Savoy,  which  gave  name  to  his  family,  and  Nice,  with  its  beautiful 
and  commanding  site,  should  have  been  lost  to  his  crown.  But  so  far, 
in  every  general  European  convulsion  some  substantial  morsels  had 
fallen  to  the  lot  of  his  predecessors,  who  had  looked  on  Italy  "as  an 
artichoke  to  be  eaten  leaf  by  leaf  " ;  and  it  was  probable  that  a  shce  of 
Lombardy  would  be  his  own  prize  at  the  next  pacification.  He  had 
spent  his  reign  in  strengthening  his  army,  and  as  the  foremost  military 
power  in  Italy  his  young  and  vigorous  people,  with  the  help  of  Aus- 
tria, were  defending  the  passes  into  their  territory.  The  road  fi'om 
their  capital  to  Savona  on  the  sea  wound  by  Ceva  and  MiUesimo  over 
the  main  ridge  of  the  Apennines,  at  the  summit  of  which  it  was  joined 
by  the  highway  through  Dego  and  Cairo  leading  southwestward  fi'om 
Milan  through  Alessandria.  The  Piedmontese,  under  CoUi,  were  guard- 
ing the  approach  to  then*  own  capital ;  the  Austrians,  under  Beaulieu, 
that  to  Milan.  Collectively  their  numbers  were  about  equal  to  those  of 
the  French ;  but  the  two  armies  were  separated. 

Beauheu  began  operations  on  April  tenth  by  ordering  an  attack  on 
the  French  division  of  Laharpe,  which  had  been  thrown  forward  to 

29  213 


^T.26]  THE    CONQUEST    OF    PIEDMONT   AND    THE    MILANESE  215 

Voltri.  The  Austrians  uucler  Argenteaii  were  to  fall  on  its  rear  from  Chap,  xxvi 
Montenotte,  a  village  to  the  north  of  Savona,  with  the  idea  of  driving  I'flc 
that  wing  of  Bonaparte's  army  back  along  the  shore  road,  on  which  it 
was  hoped  they  would  fall  under  the  fii'e  of  Nelson's  guns.  T^aharpe, 
however,  retreated  to  Savona  in  perfect  safety,  for  the  Enghsh  fleet 
was  not  near.  Thereupon  Bonaparte,  suddenly  reveahng  the  new  for- 
mation of  his  army  in  the  north  and  south  line,  assumed  the  offensive. 
Ai'genteau,  having  been  held  temporarily  in  check  by  the  desperate  re- 
sistance of  a  handful  of  French  soldiers  imder  Colonel  Rampon,  was 
sm-prised  and  overwhelmed  at  Montenotte  on  the  twelfth  by  a  force 
much  larger  than  his  own.  Next  day  Massena  and  Augereau  drove 
back  toward  Dego  an  Austrian  division  which  had  reached  Millesimo 
on  its  way  to  join  Colli ;  and  on  the  fifteenth,  at  that  place,  Bonaparte 
himself  destroyed  the  remnant  of  Ai-genteau's  corps.  On  the  sixteenth 
Beaulieu  abandoned  the  mountains  to  make  a  stand  at  Acqui  in  the 
plain.  Thus  the  whole  Austrian  force  was  not  only  driven  back,  but 
was  entirely  separated  from  the  Piedmontese. 

Bonaparte  had  a  foohsh  plan  in  his  pocket,  which  had  been  fm*- 
nished  by  the  Du'ectoiy  in  a  temporary  reversion  to  official  tradition, 
ordering  him  to  advance  into  Lombardy,  leaving  behind  the  hostile 
Piedmontese  on  his  left,  and  the  uncertain  Genoese  on  his  right.  He 
disregarded  it,  apparently  without  hesitation,  and  throwing  his  force 
northwestward  toward  Ceva,  where  the  Piedmontese  were  posted,  ter- 
rified them  into  a  retreat.  They  were  overtaken,  however,  at  Mondo\T 
on  April  twenty-second,  and  utterly  routed,  losing  not  only  their  best 
troops,  bixt  their  field-pieces  and  baggage -train .  Three  days  later  Bona- 
parte pushed  onward  and  occupied  Cherasco,  which  was  distant  fi'om 
Turin,  the  Piedmontese  capital,  but  twenty-five  miles  by  a  short,  easy, 
and  now  open  road.  On  the  twenty-seventh  the  Sardinians,  isolated  in 
a  mountain  amphitheater,  and  with  no  prospect  of  rehef  from  their 
discomfited  ally,  made  overtures  for  an  armistice  preliminaiy  to  peace. 
These  were  readily  accepted  by  Bonaparte,  without  a  thought  of  pos- 
sible displeasure  on  the  part  of  the  French  government ;  and  although 
he  had  no  authorization  from  them  to  perform  such  functions,  he  was 
defiantly  careless  of  instructions  in  this  as  in  every  subsequent  step  he 
took.  The  negotiation — during  which  the  French  stipulated  for  the 
surrender  to  them  of  Coni  and  Tortona,  the  famous  "keys  of  the  Alps," 
with  other  strongholds  of  minor  importance,  demanding  also  the  right 


216  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap.  XXVI  to  cross  and  recross  Piedmontese  territory  at  will — was  completed  on 
1790  the  twenty-eighth.  Victor  Amadeus  being  checkmated,  Bonaparte 
was  free  to  deal  with  Beauheu. 

This  short  campaign  was  in  some  respects  insignificant,  especially 
when  compared  as  to  numbers  and  results  with  what  was  to  follow. 
But  the  names  of  Montenotte,  Millesimo,  Dego,  Mondovi,  and  Cherasco 
were  ever  dear  to  Bonaparte,  and  stand  in  a  high  place  on  his  greatest 
monument.  The  King  of  Sardinia  was  the  father-in-law  of  Louis 
XVIII.,  and  his  coiu^  had  been  a  nest  of  plotting  emigrants.  The  loss 
of  his  fortresses  robbed  him  of  his  power.  By  the  terms  of  the  treaty 
he  was  to  banish  the  French  royalists  from  his  lands.  Stripped  thus  of 
both  force  and  prestige,  he  did  not  long  survive  the  disgrace,  and  died, 
leaving  to  Charles  Emmanuel,  his  son,  no  real  dominion  but  that  over 
the  island  of  Sardinia.  Moreover,  for  Bonaparte,  a  military  and  pohti- 
cal  aspirant  in  his  first  independence,  everything,  absolutely  every- 
thing, was  at  stake  in  those  earhest  engagements ;  on  the  event  hung 
his  career.  They  passed,  those  spring  days,  hke  a  transformation 
scene.  Success  was  in  the  air,  not  the  success  of  accident,  but  the 
resultant  of  forethought  and  careful  combination.  The  generals,  in- 
fected by  theu'  leader's  spirit,  vied  VTith  each  other  in  daring  and 
gallantry.  For  happy  desperation  Rampon's  famous  stand  remains  un- 
surpassed in  the  annals  of  war. 

From  the  heights  of  Ceva  the  leader  of  conquering  and  now  devoted 
soldiers  could  show  to  them  and  their  equally  enthusiastic  officers  the 
fertile  and  well-watered  land  into  which  he  had  promised  to  lead  them, 
the  historic  fields  of  Lombardy.  Nothing  comparable  to  that  inex- 
haustible storehouse  of  nature  can  be  found  in  France,  generous  as  is 
her  soil.  Walled  in  on  the  north  and  west  by  the  majestic  masses  of 
the  Alps,  and  to  the  south  by  the  smaller  but  stiU  mighty  bastions  of 
the  Apennines,  these  plains  owe  to  the  mountains  not  only  their  fer- 
tility and  prosperity,  but  their  very  existence.  Numberless  rills  which 
rise  amid  the  icy  summits  of  the  great  chain,  or  the  lower  peaks  of  the 
minor  one,  combine  into  ever  growing  streams  of  pleasant  waters 
which  finally  unite  in  the  sluggish  but  impressive  Po.  Melting  snows 
and  torrential  rains  fill  these  watercourses  with  the  rich  detritus  of  the 
Mils,  which  renews  from  year  to  year  the  soil  it  originally  created.  A 
genial  climate  and  a  grateful  soil  return  to  the  industrious  inhabitants 
an  ample  reward  for  their  labors.     In  the  fiercest  heats  of  simuner  the 


63 
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^T.  26]  THE    CONQUEST    OP    PIEDMONT    AND    THE    MILANESE  217 

passing  traveler  will  hear  if  he  pauses  the  soft  sounds  of  slow-i-unning  chap.  xxvi 
waters  in  the  imgation  sluices  which  on  every  side  supply  any  lack  of  wo 
rain.  Wheat,  barley,  and  rice,  maize,  fruit,  and  wine,  are  but  a  few  of 
the  staples.  Great  farmsteads,  with  bams  whose  mighty  lofts  and 
groaning  mows  attest  the  importance  of  Lombard  agi'iculture,  are 
grouped  into  the  hamlets  which  abound  at  the  shortest  intei-vals. 
And  to  the  vision  of  one  who  sees  them  first  fi'om  a  mountain-top 
thi'ough  the  dim  haze  of  a  sunny  day,  towns  and  cities  seem  strewn  as 
if  they  were  grain  from  the  hand  of  a  sower.  The  measure  of  be- 
wilderment is  full  when  memory  recalls  that  this  garden  of  Italy  has 
been  the  prize  for  which  from  remotest  antiquity  the  nations  of  Eu- 
rope have  fought,  and  that  the  record  of  the  ages  is  indehbly  written 
in  the  walls  and  ornaments  of  the  myriad  structures — theaters,  pal- 
aces, and  churches — which  he  so  quietly  below.  Surely  the  dullest 
sansculotte  in  Bonaparte's  army  must  have  been  aroused  to  new  sen- 
sations by  the  sight.  What  rosy  visions  took  shape  in  the  mind  of 
their  leader  we  can  only  imagine. 

Piedmont  having  submitted,  the  promised  descent  into  these  rich 
plains  was  not  an  instant  deferred.  "  Hannibal,"  said  the  command- 
ing general  to  his  staff,  "took  the  Alps  by  storm.  We  have  turned 
their  flank."  Pausing  only  to  announce  his  feats  to  the  Directory 
in  modest  phrase,  and  to  recommend  for  preferment  those  who,  like 
Lannes  and  Lanusse,  had  earned  distinction,  he  set  forth  on  May  thir- 
tieth. Neither  Genoa,  Tuscany,  nor  Venice  was  to  be  given  time  for 
arming ;  Beauheu  must  be  met  wliile  his  men  were  still  dispirited,  and 
before  the  arrival  of  reinforcements :  for  a  great  army  of  thu"ty  thou- 
sand men  was  immediately  to  be  despatched  under  Wurmser  to  main- 
tain the  power  of  Austria  in  Italy.  Beaulieu  was  a  typical  Austrian 
general,  seventy-one  years  old,  but  stiU  hale,  a  stickler  for  precedent, 
and  looking  to  experience  as  his  only  guide.  Relying  on  the  principles 
of  strategy  as  he  had  learned  them,  he  had  taken  up  what  he  consid- 
ered a  strong  position  for  the  defense  of  Milan,  his  line  stretching 
northeasterly  beyond  the  Ticino  from  Valenza,  the  spot  where  rumors, 
dihgently  spread  by  Bonaparte,  declared  that  the  French  would  at- 
tempt to  force  a  passage.  Confirmed  in  his  own  judgment  by  these 
reports,  the  old  and  wary  Austrian  commander  stood  brave  and 
expectant,  while  the  young  and  daring  adventurer  opposed  to  him 
marched  swiftly  by  on  the  right  bank  fifty  miles  onward  to  Piacenza, 


^,g  LIFE    OP   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap.  XXVI  and  made  his  crossing  on  May  seventh  in  common  ferry-boats  and  by  a 
1796  pontoon  bridge,  meeting  with  httle  or  no  resistance  from  the  few  Aus- 
trian cavalry  who  had  been  sent  out  merely  to  reconnoiter  the  hue. 
The  outwitted  army  was  virtually  outflanked,  and  in  the  greatest  dan- 
ger. Beaulieu  had  barely  time  to  break  camp  and  march  in  hot  haste 
northeasterly  to  Lodi,  where,  behind  the  swift  current  of  the  Adda,  he 
made  a  final  stand  for  the  defense  of  Milan,  the  seat  of  Austrian  gov- 
ernment. In  fact,  his  movements  were  so  hm^ied  that  the  advance- 
guards  of  both  armies  met  by  accident  at  Fombio  on  May  eighth, 
where  a  shai-p  engagement  resulted  in  a  victory  for  the  French.  La- 
harpe,  who  had  shown  his  usual  courage  in  this  fight,  was  killed  a  few 
hours  later,  through  a  mistake  of  his  own  soldiers,  in  a  melee  with  the 
pickets  of  a  second  Austrian  corps.'  On  the  ninth  the  dukes  of  Parma 
and  of  Piacenza  both  made  then-  submission  in  treaties  dictated  by  the 
French  commander,  and  simidtaneously  the  reigning  archduke  quitted 
Milan.     Next  day  the  pursuing  army  was  at  Lodi. 

Bonaparte  wrote  to  the  Du'ectory  that  he  had  expected  the  passage 
of  the  Po  would  prove  the  most  bold  and  difficult  manceuver  of  the 
campaign.  But  it  was  no  sooner  accomphshed  than  he  again  showed 
a  perfect  mastery  of  his  art  by  so  manoeuvering  as  to  avoid  an  engage- 
ment while  the  great  river  was  still  immediately  in  his  rear.  He  was 
then  summoned  to  meet  a  third  emergency  of  equal  consequence.  The 
Adda  is  fordable  in  some  places  at  certain  times,  but  not  easily ;  and  at 
Lodi  a  wooden  bridge  about  two  himdred  yards  in  length  then  occupied 
the  site  of  the  present  solid  stmcture  of  masonry  and  iron.  The  ap- 
proach to  this  bridge  Beaulieu  had  seized  and  fortified.  Northwestward 
was  Milan ;  to  the  east  lay  the  almost  impregnable  fortress  of  Mantua. 
Beaten  at  Lodi,  the  Austrians  might  still  retreat,  and  make  a  stand 
under  the  walls  of  either  town  with  some  hope  of  victory :  it  was 
Bonaparte's  intention  so  to  disorganize  his  enemy's  army  that  neither 
would  be  possible.  Accordingly  on  May  tenth  the  French  forces  were 
concentrated  for  the  advance.  They  started  immediately  and  marched 
so  swiftly  that  they  overtook  the  Austrian  rear-guard  before  it  could 
withdraw  behind  the  old  Grothic  walls  of  the  town,  and  close  the  gates. 
Driving  them  onward,  the  French  fought  as  they  marched.  A  deci- 
sive conflict  cleared  the  streets;  and  after  a  stubborn  resistance  the  brave 
defenders  retreated  over  the  bridge  to  the  eastern  bank  of  what  was 
now  then-  last  rampart,  the  river.     With  cool  and  desperate  courage 


IIHAWlN-fl     IMMiK    Kil[i    TilK    f[:XTritY    i 


EXORAVED    BY    J.    W.    EVANS 


BONAPARTE,    SURPRISED   AT   LONATO   WITH   HIS   STAFF  AND 
1200   MEN,  COMPELS  4OOO   AUSTRIANS  TO   SURRENDER 


F-KOM    THK    DRAWING    BY    KUOKNK    COUKBOIN 


iET.26]  THE    CONQUEST    OF    PIEDMONT    AND    THE    MILANESE  219 

Beaulieu  then  brought  into  action  the  Austrian  artillery,  and  swept  the  chap.  xxvi 
wooden  roadway.  iToe 

In  a  short  time  the  bridge  would  no  doubt  have  been  in  flames ;  it 
was  uncertain  whether  the  shifting  and  gi-avelly  bottom  of  the  stream 
above  or  below  would  either  yield  a  ford  or  permit  a  crossing  by  any 
other  means.  Under  Bonaparte's  personal  supervision,  and  therefore 
with  mh'aculous  speed,  the  French  batteries  were  placed  and  began  an 
answering  thunder.  In  an  access  of  personal  zeal,  the  commander  even 
threw  himself  for  an  instant  into  the  whu-hng  hail  of  shot  and  shrap- 
nel, in  order  the  better  to  aim  two  guns  which  in  the  huiTy  had  been 
misdirected.  Under  this  terrible  fii-e  and  counterfire  it  was  impossible 
for  the  Austrians  to  apply  a  torch  to  any  portion  of  the  structm^e.  Be- 
hind the  French  guns  were  three  thousand  grenadiers  waiting  for  a 
signal.  Soon  the  crisis  came.  A  troop  of  Bonaparte's  cavahy  had 
found  the  nearest  ford  a  few  hundi-ed  yards  above  the  bridge,  and  were 
seen,  amid  the  smoke,  turning  the  right  flank  of  the  Austrian  infantry, 
which  had  been  posted  a  safe  distance  behind  the  artillery  on  the  op- 
posite shore.  Quick  as  thought,  in  the  very  nick  of  opportunity,  the 
general  issued  his  command,  and  the  grenadiers  dashed  for  the  bridge. 
Eye-witnesses  declared  that  the  fii'e  of  the  Austrian  artillery  was  now 
redoubled,  while  from  houses  on  the  opposite  side  soldiers  hitherto  con- 
cealed poured  v^oUey  after  volley  of  musket-baUs  upon  the  advancing 
column.  For  one  single  fateful  moment  it  faltered.  Berthier  and  Mas- 
sena,  with  others  equally  devoted,  rushed  to  its  head  and  rallied  the 
hues.  In  a  few  moments  the  deed  was  accomplished,  the  bridge  was 
won,  the  batteries  were  silenced,  and  the  enemy  was  in  full  retreat. 

Scattered,  stunned,  and  terrified,  the  disheartened  Austrians  felt 
that  no  human  power  could  prevail  against  such  a  foe.  Beauheu  could 
make  no  further  stand  behind  the  Adda ;  but,  retreating  beyond  the 
Ogho  to  the  Mincio,  a  parallel  tributary  of  the  Po,  he  violated  Vene- 
tian neutrality  by  seizing  Peschiera,  at  the  head  of  that  stream,  and 
spread  his  line  behind  the  river  from  the  Venetian  town  on  the 
north  as  far  as  Mantua,  the  farthest  southern  outpost  of  Austria, 
thus  thwarting  one,  and  that  not  the  least  important,  of  Bonaparte's 
plans.  As  to  the  Italians,  they  seemed  bereft  of  sense,  and  for 
the  most  part  yielded  dumbly  to  what  was  required.  There  were 
occasional  outbursts  of  resistance  to  the  fierce  pohcy  of  levying 
contributions.     One  was  threatened  in  Milan  itself,  but  they  were 


220  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON   BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

Chap.  XXVI  all   put   down   witli  a  high   hand.     Pavia,  which  rebelled   outright, 
1790       aud  unbolted  its  gates  only  under  compulsion,  was  dehvered  to  the 
soldiery  as  their  booty. 

The  moral  effect  of  the  action  at  Lodi  was  incalculable.  Bona- 
parte's reputation  as  a  strategist  had  already  been  estabhshed,  but  his 
personal  courage  had  never  been  tested.  The  actual  battle-field  is  some- 
thing quite  different  from  the  great  theater  of  war,  and  men  wondered 
whether  he  had  the  same  mastery  of  the  former  as  of  the  latter.  Hith- 
erto he  had  been  untried  either  as  to  his  tactics  or  his  intrepidity.  In 
both  respects  Lodi  elevated  him  hterally  to  the  stars.  No  doubt  the 
risk  he  took  was  awful,  and  the  loss  of  life  terrible.  Critics,  too,  have 
pointed  out  safer  ways  which  they  beheve  would  have  led  to  the  same 
result ;  be  that  as  it  may,  in  no  other  way  could  the  same  dramatic 
effect  have  been  produced.  France  went  v^d  with  joy.  The  peoples 
of  Italy  bowed  before  the  prodigy  which  thus  both  paralyzed  and  fas- 
cinated them  aU.  Austria  was  dispirited,  and  her  armies  were  awe- 
stricken.  When,  five  days  later,  amid  silent  but  friendly  throngs  of 
wondering  men,  Bonaparte  entered  Milan  as  the  hberator  of  Lom- 
bardy,  at  the  head  of  his  veteran  columns,  there  was  already  about  his 
brows  a  mild  effulgence  of  supernatural  fight,  which  presaged  to  the 
growing  band  of  his  followers  the  full  glory  in  which  he  was  later  to 
shine  on  the  imagination  of  millions.  It  was  after  Lodi  that  his  ador- 
ing soldiers  gave  him  the  name  of  "  Little  Corporal,"  by  which  they 
ever  after  knew  him.  He  himself  confessed  that  after  Lodi  some  con- 
ception of  his  high  destiny  arose  in  his  mind  for  the  first  time. 


I 


! 


rnoM    A     I'KIST     IN    TMB    COLLKCTION    OF    UB.   W.    C    CBANK:     THB    ORIGINAL    ENGBAVINU    BV    Q.    FIKSINOER,    AVTKll    A     MINIATUKK    BV    .IKAN-llAlTISTK-l'AITl.IN 

UUKUIS,   DEPOSITKD    IN     THK    NATIONAL    LIBBABY,   PABIS.   ITfW) 


NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 

This  tinitniit,  witU  a  prolilc  drawing  ciigravud  by  Cniiu,  publisUi^d  in  Milan  in  I70(i,  evidently  fonnd(;il  on  tlii-  r..nt..rnini  portrait 
and  tlu*  Bunaparti'  at  Lodi.  sliowa,  according  to  Laronsse.  the  true  Bonaparte 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

an  insubokdinate  conqueeoe  and  diplomatist 

Bonaparte's  Assertion  of  Independence — Helplessness  of  the  Di- 
rectory— Threats  and  Proclamations — The  General  and  His 
Officers — Bonaparte's  Comprehensive  Genius — The  Devotion 
OF  France — The  Position  of  the  Austrians — Bonaparte's  Strat- 
egy— His  Conception  of  the  Problem  in  Italy — Justification 
of  His  Foresight  —  Modena,  Parma,  and  the  Papacy — The 
French  Radicals  and  the  Pope — Bonaparte's  Policy  —  His 
Ambition. 

WHEN  the  news  of  tlie  successes  in  Piedmont  reached  Paris,  pub-  chap.xxvh 
lie  festivals  were  decreed  and  celebrated ;  but  the  democratic  i796 
spirit  of  the  directors  could  brook  neither  the  contemptuous  disregard  of 
their  plan  which  Bonaparte  had  shown,  nor  his  arrogant  assumption  of 
diplomatic  plenipotence.  Knowing  how  thoroughly  their  doctrine  had 
permeated  Piedmont,  they  had  intended  to  make  it  a  repubhc.  It  was 
exasperating,  therefore,  that  through  Bonaparte's  meddhng  they  found 
themselves  stiU  compelled  to  eaiTy  on  negotiations  with  a  monarchy. 
The  treaty  with  the  King  of  Sardmia  was  unwillingly  signed  by  them 
on  May  fifteenth,  but  previous  to  the  act  they  determined  to  chp  the 
wings  of  their  dangerous  falcon.  This  they  thought  to  accomphsh  by 
assigning  KeEermann  to  share  with  Bonaparte  the  command  of  the 
victorious  army,  and  by  confinning  Sahcetti  as  theii-  diplomatic  pleni- 
potentiary to  accompany  it.  The  news  reached  the  conqueror  at  Lodi 
on  the  eve  of  his  triumphant  entry  into  Milan.  "As  thmgs  now  are,"  he 
promptly  rephed  to  the  Directory,  "  you  must  have  a  general  who  pos- 
sesses your  entu'e  confidence.  If  I  must  refer  every  step  to  govern- 
ment commissioners,  if  they  have  the  right  to  change  my  movements, 
to  withdraw  or  send  troops,  expect  nothing  good  hereafter."    To  Car- 

30  221 


222 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


ch.  xxvn  not  lie  wrote  at  the  same  time :  "  I  believe  one  bad  general  to  be  worth  || 
1796  two  good  ones.  ...  War  is  like  government,  a  matter  of  tact.  ...  I 
do  not  wish  to  be  hampered.  I  have  begun  with  some  glory ;  I  wish 
to  continue  worthy  of  you."  Aware  probably  that  his  own  repubhcan 
virtue  could  not  long  withstand  the  temptations  opening  before  him, 
he  began  the  latter  missive;  as  if  to  excuse  himself  and  anticipate  pos- 
sible accusations :  "I  swear  I  have  nothing  in  view  but  the  country. 
You  wiU  always  find  me  on  the  straight  road.  I  owe  to  the  repubhc 
the  sacrifice  of  all  my  own  notions.  If  people  seek  to  set  me  wrong  in 
your  esteem,  my  answer  is  in  my  heart  and  in  my  conscience."  It  is 
of  course  needless  to  add  that  the  Directory  yielded,  not  only  as  to  the 
unity  of  command,  but  also  in  the  fatal  and  vital  matter  of  intrusting 
all  diplomatic  negotiations  to  his  hands. 

In  taking  this  last  step  the  executive  virtually  surrendered  its  iden- 
tity. Such,  however,  was  the  exultation  of  the  Parisian  populace  and 
of  the  soldiery,  that  the  degi-adation  or  even  the  forced  resignation  of 
the  conqueiing  dictator  would  have  at  once  assured  the  fall  of  the  di- 
rectors. They  could  not  even  protest  when,  soon  after,  there  came 
from  Bonaparte  a  despatch  announcing  that  the  articles  of  "  the  glori- 
ous peace  which  you  have  concluded  with  the  King  of  Sardinia "  had 
reached  "  us,"  and  significantly  adding  in  a  later  paragraph  that  the 
troops  were  content,  having  received  half  theii*  pay  in  coin.  Voices  in 
Paris  declared  that  for  such  language  the  writer  should  be  shot.  Per- 
haps those  who  put  the  worst  interpretation  on  the  apparently  hannless 
words  were  coiTcct  in  their  instinct.  In  reahty  the  Du'ectory  had  been 
wholly  dependent  on  the  army  since  the  previous  October ;  and  while 
such  an  offensive  insinuation  of  the  fact  would  be,  if  intentional,  most 
unpalatable,  yet  those  who  had  profited  by  the  fact  dared  not  resent  a 
remote  reference  to  it. 

The  farce  was  continued  for  some  time  longer,  Bonaparte  playing  his 
part  with  singular  abihty.  He  sent  to  KeUermann,  in  Savoy,  without  the 
foiTtt  of  transmitting  it  through  government  channels,  a  subsidy  of  one 
milhon  two  hundred  thousand  francs.  As  long  as  he  was  unhampered, 
his  despatches  to  Paris  were  soldierly  and  straightforward,  although 
after  the  passage  of  the  Po  they  began  to  be  somewhat  bombastic,  and 
to  abound  in  his  old-fashioned,  curious,  and  sometimes  incorrect  classi- 
cal or  hterary  allusions.  But  if  he  were  crossed  in  the  least,  if  rein- 
forcements did  not  arrive,  or  if  there  were  any  sign  of  independence  in 


^T.  26]        AN    INSUBORDINATE    CONQUEROR    AND    DIPLOMATIST  223 

Paris,  they  became  petulant,  talking  of  ill  health,  threatening  resigna-  Cn.  xxvii 
tion,  and  requesting  that  numbers  of  men  be  sent  out  to  replace  liim  in  itdc 
the  multiform  functions  which  in  his  single  person  he  was  performing. 
Of  coui'se  these  tirades  often  failed  of  immediate  effect,  but  at  least  no 
effort  was  made  to  put  an  effective  check  on  the  writer's  career.  Read  a 
centmy  later  m  a  cold  and  critical  hght,  Bonaparte's  proclamations  of 
the  same  period  seem  stilted,  jerky,  and  theatrical.  In  them,  however, 
there  may  still  be  found  a  sort  of  interstitial  sentimentality,  and  in  an 
age  of  romantic  devotion  to  ideals  the  quality  of  vague  suggestiveness 
passed  for  genuine  coin.  Whatever  else  was  lacking  in  those  composi- 
tions, they  had  the  one  supreme  merit  of  accomplishing  their  end,  for 
they  roused  the  French  soldiers  to  frenzied  enthusiasm. 

In  fact,  if  the  Directory  stood  on  the  army,  the  army  belonged  hence- 
forth to  Bonaparte.  On  the  veiy  day  that  Milan  was  entered,  Mar- 
mont  heard  from  his  leader's  lips  the  memorable  words,  "  Fortune  is  a 
woman;  the  more  she  does  for  me,  the  more  I  shall  exact  from  her. 
...  In  our  day  no  one  has  conceived  anything  great ;  it  falls  to  me 
to  give  the  example."  This  is  the  language  that  soldiers  like  to  hear 
from  their  leader,  and  it  was  no  doubt  repeated  thi'oughout  the  army. 
*'From  this  moment,"  wrote  the  same  chronicler,  a  few  months  later, 
"  the  chief  part  of  the  pay  and  salaries  was  in  coin.  This  led  to  a  great 
change  in  the  situation  of  the  officers,  and  to  a  certain  extent  in  their 
habits."  Bonaparte  was  incorruptible.  Sahcetti  announced  one  day  that 
the  brother  of  the  Duke  of  Modena  was  waiting  outside  with  fom*  chests 
containing  a  miUion  of  francs  in  gold,  and  urged  the  general,  as  a  friend 
and  compatriot,  to  accept  them.  "  Thank  you,"  was  the  calm  and  sig- 
nificant answer,  "  I  shall  not  put  myself  in  the  hands  of  the  Duke  of 
Modena  for  such  a  sum."  But  similar  propositions  were  made  by  the 
commander-in-chief  to  his  subordinates,  and  they  with  less  prudence 
fell  into  the  trap,  taking  all  they  could  lay  hands  upon,  and  thus  be- 
coming the  bond-slaves  of  their  virtuous  leader.  There  were  stories  at 
the  time  that  some  of  the  generals,  not  daring  to  send  then'  ill-gotten 
money  to  France,  and  having  no  opportunity  for  investing  it  elsewhere, 
actually  carried  hundreds  of  thousands  of  francs  in  their  baggage.  This 
prostitution  of  his  subordinates  was  part  of  a  system.  Twenty  million 
francs  was  approximately  the  sum  total  of  all  contributions  announced 
to  the  Directory,  and  in  theii-  destitution  it  seemed  enormous.  They 
also  accepted  with  pleasm-e  a  hundi-ed  of  the  finest  horses  in  Lombardy 


224  LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

ch.  xxvri  to  replace,  as  Bonaparte  wrote  on  sending  his  present,  the  ordinary 
1796  ones  which  drew  their  carriages.  Was  this  paltry  four  million  dollars 
the  whole  of  what  was  derived  from  the  sequestrations  of  princely  do- 
mains and  the  secularization  of  ecclesiastical  estates  ?  By  no  means. 
The  army  chest,  of  which  none  knew  the  contents  but  Bonaparte,  was 
as  inexhaustible  as  the  widow's  cruse.  At  the  opening  of  the  campaign 
in  Piedmont,  empty  wagons  had  been  ostentatiously  displayed  as  repre- 
senting the  mihtary  funds  at  the  commander's  disposal:  these  same 
vehicles  now  groaned  under  a  weight  of  treasure,  and  were  kept  in  a 
safe  obscurity.  Well  might  he  say,  as  he  did  in  June  to  Miot,  that 
the  commissioners  of  the  Directory  would  soon  leave  and  not  be 
replaced,  since  they  counted  for  nothing  iu  his  policy. 

With  the  entry  into  Milan,  therefore,  begins  a  new  epoch  in  the 
remarkable  development  we  are  seeking  to  outline.  The  mihtary 
genius  of  him  who  had  been  the  Corsican  patriot  and  the  Jacobin  re- 
pubhcan  had  finally  asserted  dominion  over  aU  his  other  qualities.  In 
the  inconsistency  of  human  nature,  those  former  characters  now  and 
then  showed  themselves  as  still  existent,  but  they  were  henceforth 
subordinate.  The  conquered  Milanese  was  by  a  magical  touch  pro- 
vided with  a  provisional  government,  ready,  after  the  tardy  assent  of 
the  Directory,  to  be  changed  into  the  Transpadane  Repubhc  and  put 
under  French  protection.  Every  detail  of  administration,  every  offi- 
cial and  his  functions,  came  under  Bonaparte's  direction.  He  knew 
the  land  and  its  resources,  the  people  and  their  capacities,  the  mutual 
relations  of  the  surroimding  states,  and  the  idiosyncrasies  of  their 
rulers.  Such  laborious  analysis  as  his  despatches  display,  such  grasp 
both  of  outline  and  detail,  such  absence  of  confusion  and  clearness  of 
vision,  such  lack  of  hesitance  and  such  definition  of  plan,  seem  to  prove 
that  either  a  hero  or  a  demon  is  again  on  earth.  All  the  capacity  this 
man  had  hitherto  shown,  great  as  it  was,  sinks  into  insignificance 
when  compared  with  the  Olympian  powers  he  now  displays,  and  wiU 
continue  to  display  for  years  to  come.  His  sinews  are  iron,  his  nerves 
are  steel,  his  eyes  need  no  sleep,  and  his  brain  no  rest.  What  a  cap- 
tured Hungarian  veteran  said  of  him  at  Lodi  is  as  true  of  his  pohtical 
activity  as  of  his  mihtary  restlessness:  "He  knows  nothing  of  the  regu- 
lar rules  of  war :  he  is  sometimes  on  our  front,  sometimes  on  the  flank, 
sometimes  in  the  rear.  There  is  no  supporting  such  a  gross  violation 
of  rules."    His  senses  and  his  reason  were  indeed  untrammeled  by  hu- 


o 


^T.26]        AN    INSUBORDINATE    CONQUEROR    AND    DIPLOMATIST  225 

man  limitations ;  they  worked  on  front,  rear,  and  flank,  often  simulta-   ch.  xxvu 
neously,  and  always  without  confusion.  im 

Was  it  astonishing  that  the  French  nation,  just  recovering  from  a 
debauch  of  irrehgion  and  anarchy,  should  begin  insensibly  to  yield  to 
the  charms  of  a  wooer  so  seductive  ?  For  some  time  past  the  soldiers, 
as  the  Milan  newspapers  declared,  had  been  a  pack  of  tatterdemahons 
ever  flying  before  the  arms  of  his  Majesty  the  Emperor;  now  they 
were  victors,  led  by  a  second  Caesar  or  Alexander,  clothed,  fed,  and 
paid  at  the  cost  of  the  conquered.  To  ardent  French  repubhcans,  and 
to  the  peoples  of  Italy,  this  phenomenal  personage  proclaimed  that  he 
had  come  to  break  the  chains  of  captives,  while  almost  in  the  same 
hour  he  wrote  to  the  Directory  that  he  was  levying  twenty  milhon 
fi'ancs  on  the  country,  which,  though  exhausted  by  five  years  of  war, 
was  then  the  richest  in  the  civilized  universe.  Nor  was  the  self-esteem 
of  France  and  the  Parisian  passion  for  adornment  forgotten.  There 
began  a  course  of  plunder,  if  not  in  a  direction  at  least  in  a  measure 
hitherto  unknown  to  the  modern  world — the  plunder  of  scientific  speci- 
mens, of  manuscripts,  of  pictures,  statues,  and  other  works  of  art.  It 
is  difficult  to  fix  the  responsibihty  for  this  poUcy.  In  the  previous 
year  a  few  art  works  had  been  taken  from  Holland  and  Belgium,  and 
formal  orders  were  given  again  and  again  by  the  Directory  for  strip- 
ping the  Pope's  gaUeiies ;  but  there  is  a  persistent  behef ,  founded,  no 
doubt,  in  an  inherent  probability,  that  the  whole  scheme  of  art  spolia- 
tion had  been  suggested  in  the  first  place  by  Bonaparte,  and  prear- 
ranged between  himself  and  the  executive  before  his  departure.  At 
any  rate,  he  asked  and  easily  obtained  from  the  government  a  com- 
mission of  scholars  and  experts  to  scour  the  Itahan  cities;  and  soon 
untold  treasures  of  art,  letters,  and  science  began  to  pour  into  the  gal- 
leries, cabinets,  and  libraries  of  Paris.  A  few  brave  voices  among  the 
artists  of  the  capital  protested  against  the  desecration;  the  nation 
at  large  was  tipsy  with  dehght,  and  would  not  Hsten.  Raphael,  Leo- 
nardo, and  Michelangelo,  Correggio,  Giorgione,  and  Paul  Veronese,  with 
all  the  lesser  masters,  were  stowed  in  the  holds  of  frigates  and  de- 
spatched by  way  of  Toidon  toward  the  new  Rome ;  while  Monge  and 
Berthollet  ransacked  the  scientific  collections  of  Milan  and  Parma  for 
their  rarest  specimens.  Science,  in  fact,  was  to  flourish  on  the  banks 
of  the  Seine  as  never  before  or  elsewhere ;  and  the  great  investigators 
of  Italy,  forgetful  of  their  native  land,  were  to  find  a  new  citizen- 


226 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [iET.  26 


ch.  xxvn  ship  in  the  world  of  knowledge  at  the  capital  of  European  liberties. 
1796        Words  hke  these,  addressed  to  the  astronomer  Oriani,  indicate  that 
on  Bonaparte's  mind  had  dawned  the  notion  of  a  universal  federated 
state,  to  which  national  repubhcs  would  be  subordinate. 

Itahan  rebellion  having  been  subdued,  the  French  nation  roused  to 
enthusiasm,  independent  funds  provided,  and  the  Directory  put  in  its 
place,  Bonaparte  was  fi'ee  to  unfold  and  consummate  his  further  plans. 
Before  hhn  was  the  territory  of  Venice,  a  state  once  vigorous  and  terri- 
ble, but  now,  as  far  as  the  country  populations  were  concerned,  an  en- 
feebled and  gentle  ruler.  With  quick  decision  a  French  corps  of  ob- 
servation was  sent  to  seize  Brescia  and  watch  the  Tyrolean  passes.  It 
was,  of  course,  to  the  advantage  of  Austria  that  Venetian  neutrahty 
should  not  be  violated,  except  by  her  own  troops.  But  the  French, 
having  made  a  bold  beginning  of  formal  defiance,  were  quick  to  go  fur- 
ther. Beauheu  had  not  hesitated  on  false  pretenses  to  seize  Peschiera, 
another  Venetian  town,  which,  by  its  situation  at  the  outlet  of  Lake 
Garda,  was  of  the  utmost  strategic  value.  He  now  stood  confronting 
his  pursuers  on  a  strong  hne  established,  without  reference  to  territo- 
rial boundaries,  behind  the  whole  course  of  the  Mincio.  Such  was  the 
situation  to  the  north  and  east  of  the  French  army.  Southeastward, 
on  the  swampy  banks  of  the  same  river,  near  its  junction  with  the 
Po,  was  Mantua.  This  city,  which  even  under  ordinary  circiunstances 
was  an  almost  impregnable  fortress,  had  been  strengthened  by  an  ex- 
traordinary garrison,  while  the  surrounding  lowlands  were  artificially 
inundated  as  a  supreme  measiire  of  safety. 

Bonaparte  intended  to  hurl  Beaulieu  back,  and  seize  the  line  of 
the  Adige,  far  stronger  than  that  of  the  Mincio  for  repelhng  an  Aus- 
trian invasion  from  the  north.  What  to  him  was  the  neutrahty  of  a 
weak  government,  and  what  were  the  precepts  of  international  law  with 
no  force  behind  it  but  a  moral  one  ?  Austria,  according  to  treaty,  had 
the  right  to  move  her  troops  over  two  great  mihtary  roads  within  Vene- 
tian jurisdiction,  and  her  defeated  armies  had  just  used  one  of  them  for 
retreat.  The  victorious  commander  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  pause 
in  his  pursuit  for  lack  of  a  few  hues  of  wi'iting  on  a  piece  of  stamped 
paper.  Accordingly,  by  a  simple  feint,  the  Austrians  were  led  to  be- 
heve  that  his  object  was  the  seizure  of  Peschiera  and  the  passes  above 

'■  Lake  Garda;  consequently,  defying  international  law  and  violating  their 

treaties,  they  massed  themselves  at  that  place  to  meet  his  attack.    Then 


^T.  2C]        AN    INSUBORDINATE    CONQUEROR   AND    DIPLOMATIST  227 

with  a  swift,  forced  inarch  the  French  were  concentrated  not  on  the  ch.  xxvu 
enemy's  strong  right,  but  on  his  weak  center  at  Borghetto.  Bona-  iroe 
parte's  cavahy,  hitherto  badly  mounted  and  timid,  but  now  reorganized, 
were  thrown  forward  for  then'  easy  task.  Under  Mm-at's  conmiand 
they  dashed  through,  and,  encouraged  by  their  owti  brilhaut  successes, 
were  thenceforward  famous  for  efficiency.  Bonaparte,  with  the  main 
army,  then  hmTied  past  Mantua  as  it  lay  behind  its  bulwarks  of  swamp- 
fever,  and  the  Austrian  force  was  cut  in  two.  The  right  wing  fled  to 
the  mountains ;  the  left  was  virtually  in  a  trap.  Without  any  decla- 
ration of  war  against  Venice,  the  French  immediately  occupied  Verona, 
and  Legnago  a  few  days  later ;  Peschiera  was  foi-tified,  and  Pizzighet- 
tone  occupied  as  Brescia  had  been,  while  contributions  of  every  sort 
were  levied  more  nithlessly  even  than  on  the  Milanese.  The  mastery 
of  these  new  positions  isolated  Mantua  more  completely  than  a  formal 
investment  would  have  done ;  but  it  was,  nevertheless,  considered  ^^ase 
to  leave  no  loophole,  and  a  few  weeks  later  an  army  of  eight  thousand 
Frenchmen  sat  down  in  force  before  its  gates. 

It  was  certain  that  within  a  short  time  a  powerful  Austrian  force 
would  pour  out  from  the  Alpine  passes  to  the  north.  Further  advance 
into  Venetian  lands  would  therefore  be  ruin  for  the  French.  There  was 
nothing  left  but  the  slow  houi's  of  a  siege,  for  Mantua  had  become  the 
decisive  point.  In  the  heats  of  smnmer  this  interval  might  well  have 
been  devoted  to  ease;  but  it  was  ahnost  the  busiest  period  of  Bona- 
parte's hfe.  According  to  the  Directory's  rejected  plan  for  a  division 
of  command  in  Italy,  the  mission  assigned  to  Kellermann  had  been  to 
organize  repubhcs  in  Piedmont  and  in  the  Milanese,  and  then  to  defend 
the  Tyrolean  passes  against  an  Austrian  advance  from  the  north.  Bona- 
parte was  to  have  moved  southward  along  the  shore  to  revolutionize 
Genoa,  Tuscany,  the  Papal  States,  and  Naples  successively.  The  whole 
idea  having  been  scornfully  rejected  by  Bonaparte,  the  Du-ectory  had 
been  forced  by  the  brilhant  successes  of  their  general  not  merely  to 
condone  his  disobedience,  but  actually  to  approve  his  pohcy.  He  now 
had  the  opportunity  of  justifying  his  foresight.  Understanding,  as 
the  government  did  not,  that  Austria  was  their  only  redoubtable  foe  by 
land,  the  real  bulwark  of  the  whole  Itahan  system,  he  had  first  shattered 
her  power,  at  least  for  the  time.  The  prop  having  been  removed,  the 
structure  was  topphng,  and  during  this  interval  of  waiting,  it  fell. 
His  opportunity  was  made,  his  resolution  ripe. 


228 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 


ch.  XX vn  In  fi-ont,  Venice  was  at  his  mercy;  behind  him,  guerrilla  bands  of  so- 
1796  called  Barbets,  formed  in  Genoese  ten*itory  and  equipped  by  disaffected 
fugitives,  were  threatening  the  lately  conquered  gateway  from  France 
where  the  Ligm'ian  Alps  and  the  Apemiines  meet.  Bonaparte's  first 
step  was  to  impose  a  new  arrangement  upon  the  submissive  Piedmont, 
whereby,  to  make  assurance  double  sm-e,  Alessandria  was  added  to  the 
hst  of  fortresses  in  French  hands ;  then,  as  his  second  measure,  Murat 
and  Lannes  appeared  before  Genoa  at  the  head  of  an  armed  force,  with 
uistructions  fii'st  to  seize  and  shoot  the  many  offenders  who  had  taken 
refuge  in  her  tenitory  after  the  risings  in  Lombardy,  and  then  to 
threaten  the  Senate  with  further  retaliatory  measures,  and  command 
the  instant  dismissal  of  the  imperial  Austrian  plenipotentiary.  From 
Paris  came  orders  to  drive  the  Enghsh  fleet  out  of  the  harbor  of  Leg- 
horn, where,  in  spite  of  the  treaty  between  Tuscany  and  France,  there 
still  were  hostile  arsenals  and  ships.  It  was  done.  Naples  did  not  wait 
to  see  her  territories  invaded,  but  sued  for  mercy  and  was  humbled, 
being  forced  to  withdraw  her  navy  fi-om  that  of  the  coahtion,  and  her 
cavahy  from  the  Austrian  army.  For  the  moment  the  city  of  Rome 
was  left  in  peace.  The  strength  of  papal  dominion  lay  in  Bologna,  and 
the  other  legations  beyond  the  Apennines,  comprising  many  of  the  finest 
districts  in  Italy ;  and  there  a  master-stroke  was  to  be  made. 

On  the  throne  of  Modena  was  an  Austrian  archduke :  his  govern- 
ment was  remorselessly  shattered  and  virtually  destroyed,  the  ransom 
being  fixed  at  the  ruinous  sum  of  ten  million  francs  with  twenty  of  the 
best  pictures  in  the  principaUty.  But  on  that  of  Parma  was  a  Spanish 
prince  with  whose  house  France  had  made  one  treaty  and  hoped  to 
make  a  much  better  one.  The  duke,  therefore,  was  graciously  allowed 
to  purchase  an  armistice  by  an  enormous  but  yet  possible  contribution 
of  two  million  francs  in  money,  together  with  provisions  and  horses  in 
quantity.  The  famous  St.  Jerome  of  Correggio  was  among  the  twenty 
paintings  seized  in  Modena.  The  archduke  repeatedly  offered  to  ran- 
som it  for  one  milhon  francs,  the  amount  at  which  its  value  was  esti- 
mated, but  his  request  was  not  granted.  Next  came  Bologna  and  its 
surroimding  territory.  Such  had  been  the  tyi-anny  of  ecclesiastical  con- 
trol that  the  subjects  of  the  Pope  in  that  most  ancient  and  famous  seat 
of  learning  welcomed  the  French  with  unfeigned  joy;  and  the  fairest 
portion  of  the  Papal  States  passed  by  its  own  desire  from  under  the  old 
yoke.     The  successor  of  St.  Peter  was  glad  to  ransom  his  capital  by  a 


>■ 

< 


< 
< 

o 

OS 


^T.2G]        AN    INSUBORDINATE    CONQUEROR    AND    DIPLOMATIST  229 

payment  nominally  of  twenty-one  million  francs.  In  reality  he  had  ch.  xxvn 
to  sim-ender  far  more ;  for  his  galleries,  hke  those  of  Modena,  were  rm 
stripped  of  theii-  gems,  while  the  funds  seized  in  government  offices, 
and  levied  in  irregular  ways,  raised  the  total  value  forwarded  to  Paris 
to  nearly  doiible  the  nominal  contribution.  All  this,  Bonaparte  ex- 
plained, was  but  a  beginning,  the  idleness  of  summer  heats.  "  This 
armistice,"  he  wrote  to  Paris  on  June  twenty-fii'st,  1796,  "being  con- 
cluded with  the  dog-star  rather  than  with  the  papal  ai-my,  my  opinion 
is  that  you  should  be  in  no  haste  to  make  peace,  so  that  in  September, 
if  all  goes  well  in  Germany  and  northern  Italy,  we  can  take  possession 
of  Rome." 

In  fact,  this  ingenious  man  was  really  practising  moderation,  as  both 
he  and  the  teri-ified  Italians,  considering  their  relative  situations,  under- 
stood it.  Whatever  had  been  the  original  an'angement  with  the  direc- 
tors, there  was  nothing  they  did  not  now  expect  and  demand  from 
Italy :  they  wrote  requiring,  in  addition  to  aU  that  had  hitherto  been 
mentioned,  plunder  of  every  kind  fi'om  Leghorn ;  masts,  cordage,  and 
ship  supplies  from  Genoa ;  horses,  provisions,  and  forage  from  Milan ; 
and  contributions  of  jewels  and  precious  stones  fi-om  the  reigning 
princes.  As  for  the  papal  power,  the  French  radicals  would  gladly 
have  destroyed  it.  They  had  not  forgotten  that  a  diplomatic  agent  of 
the  republic  had  been  killed  in  the  streets  of  Rome,  and  that  no  repara- 
tion had  been  made  either  by  the  punishment  of  the  assassin  or  other- 
wise. The  Pope,  they  declared,  had  been  the  real  author  of  the  terrible 
civil  war  fomented  by  the  unyielding  clergy,  and  waged  with  such  fmy 
in  France.  Moreover,  the  whole  sentimental  and  philosophical  move- 
ment of  the  century  in  France  and  elsewhere  considered  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal centrahzation  and  hierarchical  tyranny  of  the  papacy  as  a  dangerous 
survival  of  absolutism. 

But  Bonaparte  was  wise  in  his  generation.  The  contributions  he 
levied  throughout  Italy  were  terrible ;  but  they  were  such  as  she  could 
bear,  and  stiU  recuperate  for  further  service  in  the  same  direction.  The 
liberaUsm  of  Italy  was,  moreover,  not  the  radicahsm  of  France ;  and  a 
submissive  papacy  was  of  incalculably  gi-eater  value  both  there  and  else- 
where in  Europe  than  an  irreconcilable  and  fugitive  one.  The  Pope, 
too,  though  weakened  and  humihated  as  a  temporal  prince,  was  spared 
for  fm-ther  usefulness  to  his  conqueror  as  a  spiritual  dignitary.  Be- 
yond all  this  was  the  enormous  moral  influence  of  a  temperate  and 


230  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26 

ch.  xxvn  apparently  impersonal  policy.  Bonaparte,  though  personally  and  by 
irae  nature  a  passionate  and  wilful  man,  felt  bound,  as  the  representative  of 
a  great  movement,  to  exercise  self-restraint,  taking  pains  to  live  simply, 
di'ess  plainly,  almost  shabbily,  and  continuing  by  calm  calculation  to 
refuse  the  enonnous  bribes  which  began  and  continued  to  be  offered 
to  him  personally  by  the  rulers  of  Italy.  His  generals  and  the  fiscal 
agents  of  the  nation  were  all  in  his  power,  because  it  was  by  his  con- 
nivance that  they  had  grown  enormously  rich,  he  himself  remaining 
comparatively  poor,  and  for  his  station  almost  destitute.  The  amiy  ( 
was  his  devoted  servant ;  Italy  and  the  world  should  see  how  different 
was  his  moderation  from  the  rapacity  of  the  republic  and  its  tools, 
vandals  hke  the  commissioners  Grareau  and  Sahcetti. 

Such  was  the  "  leism-e  "  of  one  who  to  all  outward  appearance  was 
but  a  man,  and  a  very  ordinary  one.  In  the  medals  struck  to  com- 
memorate this  first  portion  of  the  Itahan  campaign,  he  is  still  the  same 
slim  youth,  with  lanky  hau',  that  he  was  on  his  arrival  in  Paris  the 
year  previous.  It  was  observed,  however,  that  the  old  indifferent  man- 
ner was  somewhat  emphasized,  and  consequently  artificial;  that  the 
gaze  was  at  least  as  direct  and  the  eye  as  penetrating  as  ever;  and  that 
there  was,  half  intentionally,  half  unconsciously,  disseminated  all  about 
an  atmosphere  of  peremptory  command  — but  that  was  all.  The  incar- 
nation of  ambition  was  long  since  complete;  its  attendant  imperious, 
manner  was  suffered  to  develop  but  slowly.  In  Bonaparte  was  per- 
ceptible, as  Victor  Hugo  says,  the  shadowy  outline  of  Napoleon. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

maj^tua  and  akcole 

The  Austeian  System  —  The  Austeian  Steategt  —  Castiglione  — 
Feench  Gains  —  Bassano — The  Feench  in  the  Tyeol  —  The 
Feench  Defeated  in  Gekmany — Bonapaete  and  Alvinczy — Aus- 
TEiAN  Successes — Caedleeo — Fiest  Battle  of  Abcole — Second 
Battle  of  Aecole. 

MEANTIME  the  end  of  July  had  come.  Wm'mser,  considered  by  ch.  xxvm 
Austria  her  greatest  general,  had  been  recalled  to  Vienna  from  i796 
the  Rhine,  and  sent  at  the  head  of  thirty  thousand  fi'esh  troops  to  col- 
lect the  columns  of  Beaulieu's  army,  which  was  scattered  in  the  Tyi-oL 
This  done,  he  was  to  assume  the  chief  command,  and  advance  to  the 
rehef  of  Mantua.  The  fii-st  part  of  his  task  was  successfully  completed, 
and  already,  according  to  the  direction  of  the  Auhc  Council  of  the  em- 
pire, and  in  pursuance  of  the  same  hitherto  universal  but  vicious  system 
of  cabinet  campaigning  which  Bonaparte  had  just  repudiated,  he  was 
moving  down  from  the  Alps  in  thi'ee  columns  with  a  total  force  of 
about  fifty-three  thousand  men.  There  were  about  fifteen  thousand  in 
the  gan'ison  of  Mantua.  Bonaparte  was  much  weaker,  having  only 
forty-two  thousand,  and  of  these  some  eight  thousand  were  occupied 
in  the  siege  of  that  place.  Wimnser  was  a  master  of  the  old  school, 
working  like  an  automaton  under  the  hand  of  his  government,  and 
commanding  according  to  well-worn  precept  his  well-equipped  bat- 
taUons,  every  soldier  of  which  was  a  reciaiit  so  costly  that  desti-uc- 
tive  battles  were  made  as  infrequent  as  possible,  because  to  fight  many 
meant  financial  ruin.  In  consequence,  like  all  the  best  generals  of  his 
class,  he  made  war  as  far  as  possible  a  series  of  manceuvers.  Opposed 
to  him  was  an  emancipated  genius  with  neither  directors  nor  public 
council  to  hamper  him.     In  the  tradition  of  the  Revolution,  as  in  the 

231 


232  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26-27 

Ch.  xxvm  mind  of  Frederick  the  Great,  war  was  no  game,  but  a  bloody  decision, 
1796  and  the  quicker  the  conclusion  was  tried  the  better.  The  national  con- 
scription, under  the  hands  of  Dubois  de  Crauce,  had  secured  men  in 
unlimited  nimibers  at  the  least  expense;  while  Camot's  organization 
had  made  possible  the  quick  handling  of  troops  in  large  mass  by  simjjh- 
iying  the  machinery.  Bonaparte  was  about  to  show  what  could  be  done 
in  the  way  of  using  the  weapon  which  had  been  put  into  his  hands. 

The  possession  of  Mantua  was  decisive  of  Itahan  destiny,  for  its 
holder  could  command  a  kind  of  overlordship  in  every  little  Italian 
state.  If  Bonaparte  should  take  and  keep  it,  Austria  would  be  virtu- 
ally banished  from  Italy,  and  her  prestige  destroyed.  She  must,  there- 
fore, reheve  it,  or  lose  not  only  her  power  in  the  peninsula,  but  her 
rank  in  Europe.  To  this  end,  and  according  to  the  established  rules 
of  strategy,  the  Austrians  advanced  from  the  mountains  in  three  divi- 
sions against  the  French  hue,  which  stretched  fi'om  Brescia  past  Pes- 
chiera,  at  the  head  of  the  Mincio,  and  through  Verona  to  Legnago  on 
the  Adige.  Two  of  these  armies  were  to  march  respectively  down  the 
east  and  west  banks  of  Lake  Garda,  and,  flanking  the  inferior  forces  of 
the  French  on  both  sides,  surround  and  capture  them.  The  other  di- 
vision was  on  the  Adige  in  front  of  Verona,  ready  to  reheve  Mantua. 
Between  that  river  and  the  lake  rises  the  stately  mass  of  Monte  Baldo, 
abrupt  on  its  eastern,  more  gentle  on  its  western  slope.  This  latter,  as 
affording  some  space  for  manoeuvers,  was  really  the  key  to  the  passage. 
Such  was  the  first  onset  of  the  Austrians  down  this  line  that  the 
French  outposts  at  Lonato  and  Rivoh  were  driven  in,  and  for  a  time 
it  seemed  as  if  there  would  be  a  general  rout.  But  the  French  stood 
firm,  and  checked  any  further  advance.  For  a  day  Bonaparte  and 
Wm-mser  stood  confronting  each  other.  In  the  mean  time,  however, 
the  left  Austrian  column  was  pouring  down  toward  Verona,  while  the 
right,  under  Quasdanowich,  had  abeady  captured  Brescia,  seized  the 
highway  to  Milan,  and  cut  off  the  French  retreat.  This  move  in 
Wurmser's  plan  was  so  far  entirely  successful,  and  for  a  moment  it 
seemed  as  if  the  sequel  would  be  equally  so.  The  situation  of  his 
opponents  was  desperate. 

In  this  crisis  occurred  the  first  of  those  ciuious  scenes  which  recur 
at  intervals  ia  Bonaparte's  life.  Some,  and  those  eye-witnesses,  have 
attributed  them  to  genuine  panic.  Having  ordered  the  siege  of  Man- 
tua to  be  raised,  and  his  own  siege-guns  to  be  spiked,  he  at  once  de- 


^T.  26-27]  MANTUA   AND    ARCOLE  2.33 

spatched  tlie  division  thus  rendered  available  for  field  operations  toward  Ch.  xxvm 
Brescia.  But  its  numbers  were  so  few  as  scarcely  to  relieve  the  situa-  ivoc 
tion.  Accordingly  a  council  of  war  was  summoned  to  decide  whether 
the  aiTny  should  stand  and  fight,  or  retreat.  The  commander-in-chief 
was  apparently  much  excited,  and  advised  the  latter  course.  The  en- 
emy being  between  the  French  and  the  Adda,  no  other  hne  was  open 
but  that  southward  through  the  low  country,  over  the  Po ;  and  to  fol- 
low that  imphed  something  akin  to  a  disorderly  rout.  Nevertheless,  all 
the  generals  were  in  favor  of  this  suggestion  except  one,  Augereau, 
who  disdained  the  notion  of  retreat  on  any  line,  and  flung  out  of  the 
room  in  scorn.  Bonaparte  walked  the  floor  until  late  in  the  small 
hours;  finally  he  appeared  to  have  accepted  Augereau's  advice,  and 
gave  orders  for  battle.  But  the  opening  movements  were  badly  exe- 
cuted. Bonaparte  seemed  to  feel  that  the  omens  were  unfavorable, 
and  again  the  generals  were  summoned.  Augereau  opened  the  meet- 
ing with  a  theatrical  and  declamatoiy  but  earnest  speech,  encouraging 
his  comrades  and  ui-ging  the  expediency  of  a  battle.  This  time  it  was 
Bonaparte  who  fled,  apparently  in  despair,  leaving  the  chief  command, 
and  with  it  the  responsibihty,  to  the  daring  Augereau,  by  whose  enthu- 
siasm, as  he  no  doubt  saw,  the  other  generals  had  been  affected.  The 
hazardous  enterprise  succeeded,  and  on  the  very  plan  already  adopted. 
Augereau  gave  the  orders,  and  with  swift  concentration  every  available 
man  was  hurled  against  Quasdanowich  at  Lonato. 

The  result  was  an  easy  victory,  the  enemy  was  driven  back  to  a 
safe  distance,  and  Brescia  was  evacuated  on  August  fom^th,  the  de- 
feated columns  retreating  behind  Lake  Garda  to  join  Wurmser  on  the 
other  side.  Like  the  regular  retm-n  of  the  pendulum,  the  French 
moved  back  again,  and  confronted  the  Austrian  center  that  very  night, 
but  now  with  eveiy  company  in  line  and  Bonaparte  at  their  head.  A 
portion  of  the  enemy,  about  twenty-five  thousand  in  number,  had 
reached  Lonato,  hastening  to  the  support  of  Quasdanowich.  Wm-mser 
had  lost  a  day  before  Mantua.  A  second  time  the  himying  French 
engaged  their  foe  almost  on  the  same  field.  A  second  time  they  were 
easily  victorious.  In  fact  so  temble  was  this  second  defeat  that  the 
scattered  bands  of  Austrians  wandered  aimlessly  about  in  ignorance  of 
their  way.  One  of  them,  foiu-  thousand  strong,  reaching  Lonato, 
found  it  almost  abandoned  by  the  French,  Bonaparte  and  his  staff  with 
but  twelve  hundi-ed  men  being  left  behind.     A  herald,  bhndfolded,  as 


234  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26-27 

Ch.  xx\au  was  then  the  custom,  was  at  once  despatched  to  summon  the  French 
1796  commander  to  surrender  to  the  superior  Austrian  force.  The  available 
remnant  of  the  victorious  army  quickly  gathered,  and  the  messenger 
was  introduced  in  the  midst  of  them.  As  the  bandage  was  taken  from 
his  eyes,  dazzled  by  the  Ught  falling  on  hundreds  of  brilhaut  uniforms, 
the  imperious  voice  of  his  great  enemy  was  heard  conmianding  him  to 
return  and  say  to  his  leader  that  it  was  a  personal  insult  to  speak  of 
sun-ender  to  the  French  army,  and  that  it  was  he  who  must  imme- 
diately yield  himself  and  his  division.  The  bold  scheme  was  success- 
ful, and  to  the  ten  thousand  previously  killed,  woimded,  and  captured 
by  the  conquerors  four  thousand  prisoners  were  added.  Next  morning 
Wurmser  advanced,  and  with  his  right  resting  on  Lake  Garda  offered 
battle.  The  decisive  fight  occurred  in  the  center  of  his  long,  weak  line 
at  Castighone.  Before  evening  the  desperate  struggle  was  over,  and 
the  Austrians  were  in  full  retreat  toward  the  Tyi'ol.  Had  the  great 
risks  of  these  few  days  been  determined  against  the  French,  who  would 
have  been  to  blame  but  the  madcap  Augereau  *?  As  things  turned  out, 
whose  was  the  glory  but  Bonaparte's  ?  This  panic,  at  least,  appears  to 
have  been  carefidly  calculated  and  cleverly  feigned.  A  week  later  the 
French  hues  were  again  closed  before  Mantua,  which,  though  not  in- 
vested, was  at  least  blockaded.  The  fortress  had  been  revictualed  and 
regarrisoned,  while  the  besiegers  had  been  compelled  to  destroy  then' 
own  train  to  prevent  its  capture  by  the  enemy.  But  France  was  mis- 
tress of  the  Mincio  and  the  Adige,  with  a  total  loss  of  about  ten  thou- 
sand men;  while  Austria  had  lost  forty  thousand,  and  was  standing 
by  a  forlorn  hope.  Both  ai-mies  were  exhausted;  as  yet  the  great 
stake  was  not  won. 

In  the  shortest  possible  period  new  troops  were  imder  way  both 
from  Vienna  and  from  Paris.  With  those  from  the  Austrian  capital 
came  positive  instructions  to  Wurmser  that  in  any  case  he  should  again 
advance  toward  Mantua.  In  obedience  to  this  command  of  the  Em- 
peror, a  division  of  the  army,  twenty  thousand  strong,  under  Davido- 
wich,  was  left  in  the  Austrian  Tyi-ol  at  Roveredo,  near  Trent,  to  stop 
"  the  advance  of  the  French,  who,  with  theu*  reinforcements,  were  press- 

ing forward  through  the  pass  as  if  to  join  Moreau  in  Munich,  The 
main  Austrian  army,  imder  Wurmser,  moved  over  into  the  valley  of  the 
Brenta,  and  advanced  toward  Mantua.  If  he  should  decide  to  turn  west- 
ward against  the  French,  the  reserve  could  descend  the  valley  of  the 


^T.  26-27]  MANTUA   AND    ARCOLE  235 

Adige  to  his  assistance.  But  Bonaparte  did  not  intend  either  to  pass  ch.  xxviii 
by  and  leave  open  the  way  southward,  or  to  be  shut  up  in  the  valleys  itoo 
of  the  Tyi-ol,  With  a  quick  surge  Davidowich  was  fii-st  defeated  at 
Roveredo,  and  then  diiven  far  behind  Trent  into  the  higher  valleys. 
The  victor  delayed  only  to  issue  a  proclamation  giving  autonomy  to 
the  Tyrolese,  under  French  protection ;  but  the  ungi-ateful  peasantry 
preferred  the  autonomy  they  already  enjoyed,  and  fortified  then-  pre- 
cipitous passes  for  resistance.  Turning  quickly  into  the  Brenta  valley, 
Bonaparte,  by  a  forced  march  of  two  days,  overtook  Wurmser's  advance- 
giiard  unawares  at  Primolano,  and  captured  it ;  the  next  day,  September 
eighth,  he  cut  in  two  and  completely  defeated  the  main  army  at  Bas- 
sano.  Part  of  those  who  escaped  retreated  into  Friuh,  toward  Vienna. 
There  was  notliing  left  for  the  men  under  Wurmser's  personal  command 
but  to  throw  themselves,  if  possible,  into  Mantua.  With  these,  some 
sixteen  thousand  men  in  all,  the  veteran  general  forced  a  way,  by  a 
series  of  most  brilliant  movements,  past  the  flank  of  the  blockading 
French  lines,  and  found  a  refuge  in  the  famous  fortress. 

The  hghtning-like  rapidity  of  these  operations  completed  the  de- 
morahzation  of  the  Austrian  troops.  The  fortified  defiles  and  chffs 
of  the  Tyi'ol  fell  before  the  French  attacks  as  easily  as  their  breast- 
works in  the  plains.  Wurmser  had  twenty-six  thousand  men  in 
Mantua ;  but  from  fear  and  fever  half  of  them  were  in  the  hospitals. 

Meanwhile,  disaster  had  overtaken  the  French  arms  in  the  North. 
Joiu'dan  had  crossed  the  Rhine  at  Diisseldorf,  as  Moreau  had  at  Kehl. 
They  had  each  about  seventy-five  thousand  men,  while  the  army  of 
Charles  had  been  reduced  by  Wiu-mser's  departure  for  Italy  to  a  num- 
ber far  less.  According  to  the  plan  of  the  Directory,  these  two  Fi*ench 
annies  were  to  advance  on  parallel  lines  south  of  the  neutral  zone 
through  Germany,  and  to  join  Bonaparte  across  the  Tyrol  for  the 
advance  to  Vienna.  Moreau  defeated  the  Austrians,  and  reached  Mu- 
nich without  a  check.  Wiirtemberg  and  Baden  made  peace  with  the 
French  repubhc  on  its  own  terms,  and  Saxony,  recalling  its  forces  from 
the  coahtion,  declared  itself  neutral,  as  Prussia  had  done.  But  Joui'- 
dan,  having  seized  Wiirzburg  and  won  the  battle  of  Altenkirchen, 
was  met  on  his  way  to  Ratisbon  and  Neumarkt,  and  thoroughly  beaten, 
by  the  same  young  Archduke  Charles,  who  had  acquired  experience  and 
learned  wisdom  in  his  defeat  by  Moreau.  Both  French  annies  were 
thus  thrown  back  upon  the  Rhine,  and  there  coiild  be  no  further  hope 


235  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  26-27 

Ch.  xxvin  of  carrying  out  the  original  plan.     In  this  way  the  attention  of  the 

1796       world  was  concentrated  on   the   \dctorious  Army  of  Italy  and  its 

young  commander,  whose  importance  was  further  enhanced  by  the 

fulfilment  of  his  own  prophecy  that  the  fate  of  Europe  hung  on  the 

decision  of  his  campaign  in  Italy. 

The  glory  of  the  imperial  arms  having  been  biilUantly  vindicated  in 
the  North,  the  government  at  Vienna  naturally  thought  it  not  impos- 
sible to  reheve  Mantua,  and  restore  Austrian  prestige  in  the  South. 
Every  effort  was  to  be  made.  The  Tyrolese  sharp-shooters  were  called 
out,  large  nmnbers  of  raw  recruits  were  gathered  in  lUyria  and  Croatia, 
while  a  few  veterans  were  taken  fi-om  the  forces  of  the  Archduke 
Charles.  When  these  were  collected,  Quasdanowich  found  himself  in 
Friuh  with  upward  of  thirty-five  thousand  men,  while  Davidowich  in 
the  Tyrol  had  eighteen  thousand.  The  chief  command  of  both  armies 
was  assigned  to  Alvinczy,  an  experienced  but  aged  general,  one  of  the 
same  stock  as  that  to  which  Wurmser  belonged.  About  October  first, 
the  two  forces  moved  simultaneously,  one  down  the  Adige,  the  other 
down  the  Piave,  to  unite  before  Vicenza,  and  proceed  to  the  reUef  of 
Mantua.  For  the  fourth  time  Bonaparte  was  to  fight  the  same  battle, 
on  the  same  field,  for  the  same  object,  with  the  same  inferiority  of 
numbers.  His  situation,  however,  was  a  tiifle  better  than  it  had  been, 
for  several  veteran  battahons  which  were  no  longer  needed  in  Vendee 
had  arrived  from  the  Army  of  the  West ;  his  own  soldiers  were  also 
well  equipped  and  enthusiastic.  He  wrote  to  the  Directory,  on  October 
first,  that  he  had  thirty  thousand  effectives ;  but  he  probably  had  more, 
for  it  is  scarcely  possible  that,  as  he  said,  eighteen  thousand  were  in  the 
hospitals.  The  populations  around  and  beliind  him  were,  moreover, 
losing  faith  in  Austria,  and  growing  well  disposed  toward  France. 
Many  of  his  garrisons  were,  therefore,  called  in ;  and  deducting  eight 
thousand  men  destined  for  the  siege  of  Mantua,  he  still  had  an  army  of 
nearly  forty  thousand  men  wherewith  to  meet  the  Austrians. 

And  yet  this  fourth  division  of  the  campaign  opened  with  disaster 
to  the  French.  In  order  to  prevent  the  imion  of  his  enemy's  two  ar- 
mies, Bonaparte  ordered  Vaubois,  who  had  been  left  above  Trent  to 
guard  the  French  conquests  in  the  Tyrol,  to  attack  Davidowich.  The 
result  was  a  rout,  and  Vaubois  was  compelled  to  abandon  one  strong 
position  after  another, —  first  Trent,  then  Roveredo, —  until  finally  he 
felt  able  to  make  a  stand  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Adige  at  Eivoh, 


H^Urb 


ch 


DBAWINO    MADE    full    TUt    CL.NXl.ltV    ' 


EHOOATHl)  DT  M.  UAIPKH 


BONAPARTE   AT   ARCOLE 


FROM  THE   DRAWING   BV   H.  ( HAftTIKR 


I 


^T.  26-27]  MANTUA   AND    ARCOLE  237 

which  commands  the  southern  slopes  of  Monte  Baldo.  The  other  bank  ch.  xxviii 
was  in  Austrian  hands,  and  Davidowich  could  have  debouched  safely  itoo 
into  the  plain.  This  result  was  largely  due  to  the  clever  momitain  war- 
fare of  the  Tyrolese  militia.  Meantime  Massena  had  advanced  from 
Bassano  up  the  Piave  to  observe  Alvinczy.  Augereau  was  at  Verona. 
On  November  fom'th,  Alvinczy  advanced  and  occupied  Bassano,  com- 
pelling Massena  to  retreat  before  his  superior  force.  Bonapai-te,  deter- 
mined not  to  permit  a  junction  of  the  two  Austrian  ai-mies,  moved  with 
Augereau's  division  to  reinforce  Massena  and  drive  Alvinczy  back  into 
the  valley  of  the  Piave.  Augereau  fought  all  day  on  the  sixth  at  Bas- 
sano, Massena  at  Citadella.  This  first  encounter  was  indecisive ;  but 
news  of  Vaubois's  defeat  having  arrived,  the  French  thought  it  best  to 
retreat  on  the  following  day.  There  was  not  now  a  single  obstacle  to 
the  union  of  the  two  Austrian  armies ;  and  on  November  ninth,  Al- 
vinczy started  for  Verona,  where  the  French  had  halted  on  the  eighth. 
It  looked  as  if  Bonaparte  would  be  attacked  on  both  flanks  at  once,  and 
thus  overwhelmed. 

Verona  hes  on  both  banks  of  the  river  Adige,  which  is  spanned  by 
several  bridges ;  but  the  heart  of  the  town  is  on  the  right.  The  remains 
of  Vaubois's  army  having  been  rallied  at  Rivoli,  some  miles  further  up 
on  that  bank,  Bonaparte  made  all  possible  use  of  the  stream  as  a 
natural  fortification,  and  concentrated  the  remainder  of  his  forces  on 
the  same  side.  Alvinczy  came  up  and  occupied  Caldiero,  situated  on  a 
gentle  rise  of  the  other  shore  to  the  south  of  east ;  but  Davidowich, 
checked  by  the  French  division  at  Rivoh,  which  had  been  made  by 
Bonaparte  to  feel  thoroughly  ashamed,  and  was  now  thirsty  for  re- 
venge, remained  some  distance  farther  back  to  the  north,  where  it  was 
expected  he  would  cross  and  come  down  on  the  left  bank.  To  prevent 
this  a  fierce  onslaught  was  made  against  Alvinczy's  position  on  Novem- 
ber twelfth  by  Massena's  corps.  It  was  entu'ely  unsuccessful,  and  the 
French  were  repulsed  with  the  serious  loss  of  three  thousand  men. 
Bonaparte's  position  was  now  even  more  critical  than  it  had  been  at 
Castighone ;  he  had  to  contend  with  two  new  Aiistrian  armies,  one  on 
each  flank,  and  Wm-mser  with  a  thii'd  stood  ready  to  sally  out  of  Man- 
tua in  his  rear.  If  there  should  be  even  partial  cooperation  between 
the  Austrian  leaders,  he  must  retreat.  But  he  felt  sure  there  would  be 
no  cooperation  whatsoever.  From  the  force  in  Verona  and  that  before 
Mantua  twenty  thousand  men  were  gathered  to  descend  the  course  of 


238  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^Et.  26-27 

ch.  XXVIII  the  Adige  into  the  swampy  lands  about  Ronco,  where  a  crossing  was 
1796  to  he  made  and  Alvinczy  caught,  if  possible,  at  Villanova,  on  his  left 
flank.  The  manoeuver,  though  highly  dangerous,  was  fairly  successful, 
and  is  considered  by  critics  among  the  finest  in  this  or  any  other  of 
Bonapai-te's  campaigns.  Amid  these  swamps,  ditches,  and  dikes  the 
methodical  Austrians,  aiming  to  carry  strong  positions  by  one  fierce 
onset,  were  brought  into  the  greatest  disadvantage  before  the  new 
tactics  of  swift  movement  in  open  columns,  which  were  difficult  to  as- 
sail. By  a  feint  of  retreat  to  the  westward  the  French  army  had  left 
Verona  without  attracting  attention,  but  by  a  svnft  countermarch  it 
reached  Ronco  on  the  morning  of  November  fifteenth,  crossed  in  safety, 
and  tmiied  back  to  flank  the  Austrian  position. 

The  first  stand  of  the  enemy  was  made  at  Arcole,  where  a  short, 
nan-ow  bridge  connects  the  high  dikes  which  regulate  the  sluggish 
stream  of  the  Mttle  river  Alpon,  a  tributary  of  the  Adige  on  its  left 
bank.  This  bridge  was  defended  by  two  battalions  of  Croatian  recruits, 
whose  commander,  Colonel  Brigido,  had  placed  a  pair  of  field-pieces  so 
as  to  enfilade  it.  The  French  had  been  advancing  in  thi-ee  columns  by 
as  many  causeways,  the  central  one  of  which  led  to  the  bridge.  The  first 
attempt  to  cross  was  repulsed  by  the  deadly  fire  which  the  Croats 
poured  in  from  their  sheltered  position.  Augereau,  with  his  picked 
corps,  fared  no  better  in  a  second  charge  led  by  himself  bearing  the 
standard ;  and,  in  a  third  disastrous  rush,  Bonaparte,  who  had  caught 
up  the  standard  and  planted  it  on  the  bridge  with  his  own  hand,  was 
himself  swept  back  into  a  quagmire,  where  he  would  have  perished  but 
for  a  fourth  return  of  the  grenadiers,  who  drove  back  the  pursuing 
Austrians,  and  pulled  theu'  commander  from  the  swamp.  Fh'ed  by  his 
undaimted  courage,  the  gallant  lines  were  formed  once  more.  At  that 
moment  another  French  corps  passed  over  lower  down  by  a  ferry,  and 
the  Austrians  becoming  disorganized,  in  spite  of  the  large  reinforce- 
ments which  had  come  up  under  Alvinczy,  the  last  charge  on  the  bridge 
was  successful.  With  the  capture  of  Arcole  the  French  turned  their 
enemy's  rear,  and  cut  off  not  only  his  artillery,  but  his  reserves  in  the 
valley  of  the  Brenta.  The  advantage,  however,  was  completely  de- 
stroyed by  the  masterly  retreat  of  Alvinczy  fi-om  his  position  at  Cal- 
diero,  effected  by  other  causeways  and  another  bridge  further  north, 
which  the  French  had  not  been  able  to  secure  in  time. 

Bonaparte  quickly  withdrew  to  Ronco,  and  recrossed  the  Adige  to 


TOGIlAVCUt  UOUsSOD,   VALADON   &  CO,  PAlllS 


BONAPARTE     AT     ARC  OLE. 


i 


i 


^T.2&-27]  MANTUA    AND    ARCOLE  239 

meet  an  attack  wMch  he  supposed  Davidowich,  having  possibly  forced  ch.  xxvin 
Yaubois's  position,  would  then  certainly  make.  But  that  general  was  i79g 
still  in  his  old  place,  and  gave  no  signs  of  activity.  This  movement 
misled  Alvinczy,  who,  thinking  the  French  had  started  from  Mantua, 
returned  by  way  of  Arcole  to  pursue  them.  Again  the  French  com- 
mander led  his  forces  across  the  Adige  into  the  swampy  lowlands.  His 
enemy  had  not  forgotten  the  desperate  fight  at  the  bridge,  and  was 
timid;  and  besides,  in  his  close  formation,  he  was  on  such  gi'ound  no 
match  for  the  open  ranks  of  the  French.  Retiring  without  any  real  re- 
sistance as  far  as  Ai'cole,  the  Austrians  made  their  stand  a  second  time 
in  that  red-walled  burg.  Bonaparte  could  not  weD  afford  another  di- 
rect attack,  with  its  attendant  losses,  and  strove  to  tm*n  the  position  by 
fording  the  Alpon  where  it  flows  into  the  Adige.  He  failed,  and  with- 
drew once  more  to  Ronco,  the  second  day  remaining  indecisive.  On 
the  morning  of  the  seventeenth,  however,  with  imdiminished  fertility 
of  resource,  a  new  plan  was  adopted  and  successfidly  carried  out.  One 
of  the  pontoons  on  the  Adige  sank,  and  a  body  of  Austrians  charged 
the  small  division  stationed  on  the  left  bank  to  guard  it,  in  the  hope 
of  destroying  the  remainder  of  the  bridge.  They  were  repulsed  and 
driven  back  toward  the  marshes  with  which  they  meant  to  cover  their 
flank.  The  gan-isons  of  both  Arcole  and  Porcil,  a  neighboring  hamlet, 
were  seriously  weakened  by  the  detention  of  this  force.  Two  French 
divisions  were  promptly  despatched  to  make  use  of  that  advantage, 
while  at  the  same  time  an  ambuscade  was  laid  among  the  pollard  wil- 
lows which  lined  the  ditches  beyond  the  retreating  Austrians.  At  an 
opportune  moment  the  ambuscade  unmasked,  and  by  a  tenible  fire 
drove  thi-ee  thousand  of  the  Croatian  recruits  into  the  marsh,  where 
most  of  them  were  drowned  or  shot.  Advancing  then  beyond  the  Al- 
pon by  a  bridge  built  diu'ing  the  previous  night,  Bonaparte  gave  battle 
on  the  high  ground  to  an  enemy  whose  nimibers  were  now,  as  he  cal- 
culated, reduced  to  a  comparative  equahty  with  his  own.  The  Aus- 
trians made  a  vigorous  resistance ;  but  such  was  their  credulity  as  to 
anything  their  enemy  might  do,  that  a  simple  stratagem  of  the  French 
made  them  beheve  that  their  left  was  turned  by  a  division,  when  in 
reahty  but  twenty-five  men  had  been  sent  to  ride  around  behind  the 
swamps  and  blow  then-  bugles.  Being  simultaneously  attacked  on  the 
front  of  the  same  wing  by  Augereau,  they  di-ew  off  at  last  in  good  or- 
der toward  MontebeUo.     Thence  Alvinczy  slowly  retreated  into  the 


240  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  2S-27 

ch.  xxvm.  valley  of  the  Brenta.  The  French  returned  to  Verona.  Davidowich, 
1796  ignorant  of  all  that  had  occurred,  now  finally  dislodged  Vaubois ;  but, 
finding  before  him  Massena  with  his  division  where  he  had  expected 
Alvinczy  and  a  great  Austrian  army,  he  discreetly  withdrew  into  the 
Tyrol.  It  was  not  until  November  twenty-third,  long  after  the  depart- 
ui'e  of  both  his  colleagues,  that  Wurmser  made  a  briUiant  but  of  course 
ineffectual  sally  from  Mantua.  The  French  were  so  exhausted,  and  the 
Austrians  so  decimated  and  scattered,  that  by  tacit  consent  hostihties 
were  intermitted  for  nearly  two  months. 


CHAPTER 

bonapaete's  impekious  spieit 

Bonaparte's  Teansfokmation — Militaey  Genius — Powers  and  Prin- 
ciples— Theory  and  Conduct — Political  Activity  —  Purposes 
FOE  Italy — Private  Correspondence  —  Treatment  op  the  Ital- 
ian Powers  —  Antagonism  to  the  Directory  —  The  Task  be- 
fore Him. 

D TIRING-  the  two  months  between  the  middle  of  November,  1796,  ch.  xxrx 
and  the  middle  of  January,  1797,  there  was  a  marked  change  in  i^dg 
Bonaparte's  character  and  conduct.  After  Arcole  he  appeared  as  a 
man  very  different  from  the  novice  he  had  been  before  Montenotte. 
Twice  his  fortunes  had  hung  by  a  single  hair,  having  been  rescued  by 
the  desperate  bravery  of  Rampon  and  his  soldiers  at  Monte  Legino, 
and  again  by  Augereau's  daring  at  Lonato ;  twice  he  had  barely  es- 
caped being  a  prisoner,  once  at  Valeggio,  once  at  Lonato;  twice  his 
life  had  been  spared  in  the  heat  of  battle  as  if  by  a  miracle,  once  at 
Lodi,  once  again  at  Arcole.  These  facts  had  apparently  left  a  deep 
impression  on  his  mind,  for  they  were  turned  to  the  best  account  in 
making  good  a  new  step  in  social  advancement.  So  far  he  had  been 
as  adventurous  as  the  greatest  daredevil  among  the  siibaltems,  staking 
his  life  in  every  new  venture ;  hereafter  he  seemed  to  appreciate  his 
own  value,  and  to  calculate  not  only  the  imperihng  of  his  life,  but 
the  intimacy  of  his  conversation,  with  nice  adaptation  to  some  gi-eat  re- 
sult. Gradually  and  informally  a  kind  of  body-guard  was  organized, 
which,  as  the  idea  grew  familiar,  was  skilfully  developed  into  a  picked 
corps,  the  best  o£B.cers  and  finest  soldiers  being  made  to  feel  honored  in 
its  membership.  The  constant  attendance  of  such  men  necessarily  se- 
cluded the  general-in-chief  from  those  colleagues  who  had  hitherto 
been  famihar  comrades.     Something  in  the  nature  of  formal  etiquette 


242  I^I^E    OP   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

Ch.  xxe  once  established,  it  was  easy  to  extend  its  rules  and  confirm  them. 
1796  The  generals  were  thus  separated  further  and  fui'ther  from  their  supe- 
rior, and  before  the  new  year  they  had  insensibly  adopted  habits  of  ad- 
dress which  displayed  a  high  outward  respect,  and  vu-tually  terminated 
aU  comradeship  with  one  who  had  so  recently  been  merely  the  first 
among  equals.  Bonaparte's  innate  tendency  to  command  was  under 
such  circumstances  hardened  into  a  habit  of  imperious  dictation.  In 
view  of  what  had  been  accompUshed,  it  would  have  been  impossible, 
even  for  the  most  stubborn  democrat,  to  check  the  process.  Not  one 
of  Bonaparte's  principles  had  failed  to  secure  triumphant  vindication. 
In  later  years  Napoleon  himseK  beheved,  and  subsequent  criticism 
has  confii'med  his  opinion,  that  the  Itahan  campaign,  taken  as  a  whole, 
was  his  greatest.  The  revolution  of  any  public  system,  social,  pohtical, 
or  military,  is  always  a  gigantic  task.  It  was  nothing  less  than  this 
which  Bonaparte  had  wrought,  not  in  one,  but  in  all  three  spheres, 
during  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1796.  The  changes,  like  those  of 
most  revolutions,  were  changes  of  emphasis  and  degree  in  the  appHca- 
tion  of  principles  already  divined.  "Divide  and  conquer"  was  an  old 
maxim ;  it  was  a  novelty  to  see  it  applied  in  warfare  and  poUtics  as 
Bonaparte  appMed  it  in  Italy.  It  has  been  remarked  that  the  essential 
difference  between  Napoleon  and  Frederick  the  Great  was  that  the  lat- 
ter had  not  ten  thousand  men  a  month  to  kill.  The  notion  that  war 
should  be  short  and  terrible  had,  indeed,  been  clear  to  the  great  Prus- 
sian ;  Camot  and  the  times  afforded  the  opportunity  for  its  conclusive 
demonstration  by  the  genius  of  the  greater  Corsican.  Concentration 
of  besiegers  to  breach  the  walls  of  a  town  was  nothing  new ;  but  the 
triumphant  apphcation  of  the  same  principle  to  an  opposing  line  of 
troops,  though  well  known  to  Juhus  Caesar,  had  been  forgotten,  and  its 
revival  was  Napoleon's  masterpiece.  The  martinets  of  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries  had  so  exaggerated  the  formaUties  of  war  that 
the  relation  of  armies  to  the  fighting-ground  had  been  httle  studied  and 
weU-nigh  forgotten ;  the  use  of  the  map  and  the  compass,  the  study  of 
rehefs  and  profiles  in  topography,  produced  in  Bonaparte's  hands  results 
that  seemed  to  duller  minds  nothing  short  of  miraculous.  One  of  these 
was  to  oppose  the  old-school  rigid  formation  of  troops  by  any  forma- 
tion more  or  less  open  and  irregular  according  to  cu'cumstances,  but 
always  the  kind  best  suited  to  the  character  of  the  seat  of  war.  The 
fii'st  two  days  at  Arcole  were  the  triumphant  vindication  of  this  con- 


^T.  27]  BONAPARTE'S    IMPERIOUS    SPIRIT  243 

cept.  Finally,  there  was  a  fascination  for  tlie  French  soldiers  in  the  Ch.  xxix 
primitive  savagery  of  theii-  general,  which,  though  partly  concealed,  and  i"96 
somewhat  held  in  by  training,  nevertheless  was  willing  that  the  spoils 
of  then*  conquest  should  be  devoted  to  making  the  victorious  con- 
testants opulent;  which  scorned  the  limitations  of  human  powers  in 
himself  and  them,  and  thus  accomphshed  feats  of  strength  and  strat- 
agem which  gratified  to  satiety  that  love  for  the  uncommon,  the  ideal, 
and  the  gi'eat  which  is  inherent  in  the  spmt  of  their  nation.  In  the 
successful  combination  and  evolution  of  all  these  elements  there  was  a 
grandeur  which  Bonaparte  and  every  soldier  of  his  army  appreciated  at 
its  full  value. 

The  military  side  of  Bonaparte's  genius  is  ordinarily  considered  the 
strongest.  Judged  by  what  is  easily  visible  in  the  way  of  immediate 
consequences  and  permanent  results,  this  appears  to  be  trae ;  and  yet 
it  was  only  one  of  many  sides.  Next  in  importance,  if  not  equal  to  it, 
was  his  activity  in  politics  and  diplomacy.  It  is  easy  to  call  names,  to 
stigmatize  the  peoples  of  Italy,  all  the  nations  even  of  western  Europe, 
as  corrupt  and  enervated,  to  laugh  at  then-  pohtics  as  antiquated,  and 
to  brand  their  rulers  as  incapable  fools.  An  ordinary  man  can,  by  the 
assistance  of  the  knowledge,  education,  and  insight  acquired  by  the  ex- 
perience of  his  race  through  an  additional  century,  turn  and  show  how 
commonplace  was  the  person  who  toppled  over  such  an  old  rotten 
structure.  This  is  the  method  of  Napoleon's  detractors,  except  when, 
in  addition,  they  fii'st  magnify  his  wickedness,  and  then  further  distort 
the  proportion  by  viewing  his  fine  powers  thi'ough  the  other  end  of  the 
glass.  We  all  know  how  easy  great  things  are  when  once  they  have 
been  accomphshed,  how  simple  the  key  to  a  mystery  when  once  it  has 
been  revealed.  Morally  considered,  Bonaparte  was  a  child  of  nature, 
born  to  a  mean  estate,  buffeted  by  a  cruel  and  remorseless  society, 
driven  in  youth  to  every  shift  for  self-preservation,  compelled  to  fight 
an  unregenerate  world  with  its  own  weapons.  He  had  not  been  changed 
in  the  flash  of  a  gun.  Elevation  to  reputation  and  power  did  not  di- 
minish the  duphcity  of  his  character;  on  the  contrary,  it  possibly  inten- 
sified it.  Certainly  the  fierce  hght  which  began  to  beat  upon  him 
brought  it  into  greater  prominence.  Tmth,  honor,  unselfishness  are 
theoretically  the  virtues  of  all  philosophy ;  practically  they  are  the  vir- 
tues of  Christian  men  in  Christian  society.  Where  should  the  scion  of 
a  Corsican  stock,  ignorant  of  moral  or  rehgious  sentiment,  thrown  into 


244  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^Et.  27 

ch.  XXIX  the  atmosphere  and  suiToundings  of  the  French  Revolution,  learn  to 
1796       practise  them? 

Such  considerations  are  indispensable  in  the  observation  of  Bona- 
parte's progi'ess  as  a  poUtician.  His  first  settlement  with  the  various 
peoples  of  central  Italy  was,  as  he  had  declared,  only  provisional.  The 
uncertain  status  created  by  it  was  momentarily  not  unwelcome  to  the 
Directory.  Their  pohcy  was  to  destroy  existing  institutions,  and  leave 
order  to  evolve  itself  from  the  chaos  as  best  it  could.  Doctrinaires  as 
they  were,  they  meant  to  destroy  absolute  monarchy  in  Italy,  as  every- 
where else,  if  possible,  and  then  to  stop,  leaving  the  Hberated  peoples  to 
their  o'^ti  devices.  Some  fondly  beheved  that  out  of  anarchy  would 
arise,  in  accordance  with  "  the  law  of  nature,"  a  pure  democracy ;  while 
others  had  the  same  faith  that  the  result  would  be  constitutional  mon- 
archy. Moreover,  things  appear  simpler  in  the  perspective  of  distance 
than  they  do  near  at  hand.  The  sincerity  of  Bonaparte's  repubhcanism 
was  like  the  sincerity  of  his  conduct  —  an  affair  of  time  and  place,  a 
consistency  with  conditions  and  not  with  abstractions.  He  knew  the 
ItaUan  mob,  and  faithfully  described  it  in  his  letters  as  dull,  ignorant, 
and  unreliable,  without  preparation  or  fitness  for  self-government.  He 
was  wilhng  to  estabhsh  the  forms  of  constitutional  administration;  but 
in  spite  of  hearty  support  from  many  disciples  of  the  Revolution,  he 
found  those  forms  likely,  if  not  certain,  to  crumble  under  their  own 
weight,  and  was  convinced  that  the  real  sovereignty  must  for  years  to 
come  reside  in  a  strong  protectorate  of  some  kind.  It  appeared  to  him 
a  necessity  of  war  that  these  peoples  should  reheve  the  destitution  of 
the  French  treasury  and  army,  a  necessity  of  circumstances  that  France 
should  be  restored  to  vigor  and  health  by  laying  tribute  on  their  trea- 
sures of  art  and  science,  as  on  those  of  all  the  world,  and  a  necessity  of 
political  science  that  artificial  boundaries  should  be  destroyed,  as  they 
had  been  in  France,  to  produce  the  homogeneity  of  condition  essential 
to  national  or  administrative  unity. 

The  Itahans  themselves  understood  neither  the  policy  of  the  French 
executive  nor  that  of  their  conqueror.  The  transitional  positicm  in 
which  the  latter  had  left  them  produced  great  uneasiness.  The  tem- 
fied  local  authorities  asked  nothing  better  than  to  be  left  as  they  were, 
with  a  view  to  profiting  by  the  event,  whatever  it  might  be.  After 
every  Austrian  success  there  were  numerous  local  revolts,  which  the 
French  garrison  commanders  suppressed  with  severity.     Provisional 


i 


THK    LyiJVBE 


E-VGR4VnD    BY    PETER    AITKT 


A   GRENADIER 

THK     PAIMTLNO     BY     NICOLAS    TOUBSAINT    CaAIU-BT 


Mt.27]  BONAPARTE'S    IMPERIOUS    SPIRIT  245 

governments  soon  come  to  the  end  of  theii"  usefulness,  and  the  enemies  Cn.  xxix 
of  France  began  to  take  advantage  of  the  disorder  in  order  to  undo  i796 
what  had  been  done.  The  Enghsh,  for  example,  had  seized  Porto  Fer- 
rajo  in  place  of  Leghorn ;  the  Pope  had  gone  further,  and,  m  spite  of 
the  armistice,  was  assembling  an  army  for  the  recoveiy  of  Bologna,  Fer- 
rara,  and  his  other  lost  legations.  Thus  it  happened  that  in  the  inter- 
vals of  the  most  laborious  military  operations,  a  pohtical  activity,  both 
comprehensive  and  feverish,  kept  pace  in  Bonaparte's  mind  with  that 
which  was  needed  to  regulate  his  campaigning. 

At  the  very  outset  there  was  developed  an  antagonism  between 
the  notions  of  the  Directory  and  Bonaparte's  interests.  The  latter 
observed  all  the  forms  of  consulting  his  superiors,  but  acted  without 
the  shghtest  reference  to  their  instructions,  often  even  before  they 
could  receive  his  despatches.  Both  he  and  they  knew  the  weakness 
of  the  French  government,  and  the  inherent  absm"dity  of  the  situation. 
The  story  of  French  conquest  in  Italy  might  be  told  exactly  as  if  the 
invading  general  were  acting  solely  on  his  own  responsibihty.  In  his 
proclamations  to  the  Italians  was  one  language ;  in  his  letters  to  the 
executive,  another;  in  a  few  confidential  family  communications,  stiU 
another;  in  his  own  heart,  the  same  old  idea  of  using  each  day  as  it 
came  to  advance  his  own  fortunes.  As  far  as  he  had  any  love  of  coun- 
try, it  was  expended  on  France,  and  what  we  may  caU  his  principles 
were  conceptions  derived  from  the  Revolution ;  but  somehow  the  best 
interests  of  France  and  the  safety  of  revolutionary  doctrine  were  every 
day  more  involved  in  the  pacification  of  Italy,  in  the  humiliation  of 
Austria,  and  in  the  supremacy  of  the  army.  There  was  only  one  man 
who  could  secure  aU  three ;  could  give  consistency  to  the  flabby,  vi- 
sionary policy  of  the  Directory ;  could  repress  the  frightful  robberies  of 
its  civil  agents  in  Italy ;  could  with  any  show  of  reason  hiunble  Italy 
with  one  hand,  and  then  with  the  other  rouse  her  to  wholesome  en- 
ergy ;  could  enrich  and  glorify  France  while  crushing  out,  as  no  royal 
dynasty  had  ever  been  able  to  do,  the  haughty  rivahy  of  the  Hapsburgs. 

These  purposes  made  Bonaparte  the  most  gentle  and  concihatory 
of  men  in  some  directions ;  in  others  they  developed  and  hardened 
his  imperiousness.  His  correspondence  muTors  both  his  mildness  and 
his  arbitrariness.  His  letters  to  the  Directory  abound  in  praise  of  his 
ofi&cers  and  men,  accompanied  by  demands  for  the  promotion  of  those 
who  had  performed  distinguished  services.     Writing  to  General  Clarke 


246  LIFE  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE  [^t.27 

ch.  XXIX  on  November  nineteenth,  1796,  fi-om  Yerona,  lie  says,  in  words  full  of 
1796  patlios :  "  Yoiu"  nephew  EUiot  was  killed  on  the  battle-field  of  Axcole, 
This  youth  had  made  himself  famihar  with  arms ;  several  times  he  had 
marched  at  the  head  of  columns ;  he  would  one  day  have  been  an  es- 
timable officer.  He  died  with  gloiy,  in  the  face  of  the  foe ;  he  did  not 
suffer  for  a  moment.  What  reasonable  man  would  not  envy  such  a 
death  f  Who  is  he  that  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life  would  not  agree 
to  leave  in  such  a  way  a  world  so  often  worthy  of  contempt  ?  What 
one  of  us  has  not  a  hundi'ed  times  regretted  that  he  could  not  thus 
be  withdi'awn  from  the  powerful  effects  of  calumny,  of  envy,  and  of 
aU  the  hateful  passions  that  seem  almost  entirely  to  control  human 
conduct '? "  Perhaps  these  few  words  to  the  widow  of  one  of  his  late 
officers  are  even  finer :  "  Muu-on  died  at  my  side  on  the  late  battle- 
field of  Arcole.  You  have  lost  a  husband  that  was  dear  to  you ;  I,  a 
friend  to  whom  I  have  long  been  attached :  but  the  country  loses  more 
than  us  both  in  the  death  of  an  officer  distinguished  no  less  by  his 
talents  than  by  his  rare  courage.  If  I  can  be  of  service  in  anything 
to  you  or  his  child,  I  pray  you  count  altogether  upon  me."  That  was 
all;  but  it  was  enough.  With  the  ripening  of  character,  and  under 
the  responsibilities  of  life,  an  individual  style  had  come  at  last.  It 
is  martial  and  terse  almost  to  affectation,  defying  translation,  and 
perfectly  reflecting  the  character  of  its  writer. 

But  the  hours  when  the  general-in-chief  was  war-worn,  weary,  ten- 
der, and  subject  to  human  regrets  like  other  men,  were  not  those  which 
he  revealed  to  the  world.  He  was  peremptory,  and  sometimes  even 
peevish,  with  the  French  executive  after  he  had  them  in  his  hand; 
with  Italy  he  assumed  a  parental  role,  meting  out  chastisement  and 
reward  as  best  suited  his  purpose.  A  definite  treaty  of  peace  had  been 
made  with  Sardinia,  and  that  power,  though  weak  and  maimed,  was 
going  its  own  way.  The  Transpadane  Eepubhc,  which  he  had  begun 
to  organize  as  soon  as  he  entered  Milan,  was 'carefully  cherished  and 
guided  in  its  artificial  existence ;  but  the  people,  whether  or  not  they 
were  fit,  had  no  chance  to  exercise  any  real  independence  under  the 
shadow  of  such  a  power.  It  was,  moreover,  not  the  power  of  France ; 
for,  by  special  order  of  Bonaparte,  the  civil  agents  of  the  Du-ectory 
were  subordinated  to  the  mihtary  commanders,  ostensibly  because  the 
foimer  were  so  rapacious.  Lombardy  in  this  way  became  his  veiy 
own.    Rome  had  made  the  armistice  of  Bologna  merely  to  gain  time, 


JSt.  27]  BONAPARTE'S    IMPERIOUS    SPIRIT  247 

and  in  the  hope  of  eventual  disaster  to  French  aims.  A  pretext  for  Cn.  xxix 
the  resumption  of  hostihties  was  easily  found  by  her  in  a  foolish  com-  nac 
mand,  issued  from  Paris,  that  the  Pope  should  at  length  recognize  as 
regular  those  of  the  clergy  who  had  sworn  allegiance  to  the  successive 
constitutions  adopted  under  the  repubhc,  and  withdi'aw  all  his  procla- 
mations against  those  who  had  obsei-ved  their  oaths  and  confoi-med. 
The  Pontiff,  relying  on  the  final  success  of  Austria,  had  virtually  bro- 
ken off  negotiations.  Bonapai-te  informed  the  French  agent  in  Rome 
that  he  must  do  anything  to  gain  time,  anything  to  deceive  the  "  old 
fox " ;  in  a  favorable  moment  he  expected  to  pounce  upon  Rome,  and 
avenge  the  national  honor.  Dm-ing  the  intei-val  Naples  also  had  become 
refractory;  refusing  a  ti'ibute  demanded  by  the  Directoiy,  she  was  not 
only  collecting  soldiers,  Hke  the  Pope,  but  actually  had  some  regiments 
in  marching  order.  Venice,  assei-ting  her  neutraUty,  was  growing  more 
and  more  bitter  at  the  constant  violations  of  her  territory.  Mantua 
was  still  a  defiant  fortress,  and  in  this  crisis  nothing  was  left  but  to  re- 
vive French  credit  where  the  peoples  were  best  disposed  and  their  old 
rulers  weakest. 

Accordingly,  Bonapai-te  went  through  the  form  of  consulting  the 
Du'ectory  as  to  a  plan  of  procedure,  and  then,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer  from  them,  and  without  the  consent  of  those  most  deeply  inter- 
ested, broke  the  annistice  with  Modena  on  the  pretext  that  five  hundred 
thousand  francs  of  ransom  money  were  yet  unpaid,  and  drove  the  duke 
from  his  throne.  This  duchy  was  the  nucleus  about  which  was  to  be 
constituted  the  Cispadane  Repubhc :  in  conjunction  with  its  inhabi- 
tants, those  of  Reggio,  Bologna,  and  Ferrara  were  hivited  to  form  a  fi-ee 
government  under  that  name.  There  had  at  least  been  a  pretext  for 
erecting  the  Milanese  into  the  Transpadane  Repubhc  —  that  of  di'iving 
an  invader  from  its  soil.  This  time  there  was  no  pretext  of  that  kind, 
and  the  Directory  opposed  so  bold  an  act  regarding  these  lands,  being 
uneasy  about  public  opinion  in  regard  to  it.  They  hoped  the  war  would 
soon  be  ended,  and  were  verging  to  the  opinion  that  their  armies  must 
before  long  leave  the  Itahans  to  their  own  devices.  The  conduct  of 
then*  general  pointed,  however,  in  the  opposite  du-ection ;  he  forced  the 
native  liberals  of  the  district  to  take  the  necessary  steps  toward  organiz- 
ing the  new  state  so  rapidly  that  the  Dii*ectory  found  itself  compelled 
to  yield.  It  is  possible,  but  not  likely,  that,  as  has  been  charged,  Bona- 
parte really  intended  to  bring  about  what  actually  happened,  the  con- 


248  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  XXIX  tinued  dependence  on  the  French  republic  of  a  lot  of  artificial  govem- 
1796  mentSo  The  uninterrupted  meddling  of  France  in  the  affairs  of  the 
Itahans  destroyed  in  the  end  all  her  influence,  and  made  them  hate  her 
dominion,  which  masqueraded  as  liberahsm,  even  more  than  they  had 
hated  the  open  but  mild  tyranny  of  those  royal  scions  of  foreign  stocks 
recently  dismissed  from  their  thrones.  During  these  months  there  is  in 
Bonaparte's  correspondence  a  somewhat  theatrical  iteration  of  devotion 
to  France  and  repubhcan  principles,  but  his  first  care  was  for  his  army 
and  the  success  of  his  campaign.  He  behaved  as  any  general  sohcitous 
for  the  strength  of  his  positions  on  foreign  soil  would  have  done,  his 
ruses  taking  the  form  of  constantly  repeating  the  pohtical  shibboleths 
then  used  in  France.  Soon  afterward  Naples  made  her  peace ;  an  in- 
surrection in  Corsica  against  Enghsh  rule  enabled  France  to  seize  that 
island  once  more ;  and  Genoa  entered  into  a  formal  alhance  with  the 
Directory. 

Thenceforward  there  appears  in  Bonaparte's  nature  no  trace  of  the 
Corsican  patriot.  The  one  faint  spark  of  remaining  interest  seems  to 
have  been  extinguished  in  an  order  that  Pozzo  di  Borgo  and  his  friends, 
if  they  had  not  escaped,  should  be  brought  to  judgment.  His  other 
measures  with  reference  to  the  once  loved  island  were  as  calculating 
and  dispassionate  as  any  he  took  concerning  the  most  indifferent  prin- 
cipahty  of  the  mainland,  and  even  extended  to  enunciating  the  prin- 
ciple that  no  Corsican  should  be  employed  in  Corsica.  It  is  a  citizen 
not  of  Corsica,  nor  of  France  even,  but  of  Europe,  who  on  October 
second  demands  peace  from  the  Emperor  in  a  threat  that  if  it  is  not 
yielded  on  favorable  terms  Triest  and  the  Adriatic  will  be  seized.  At 
the  same  time  the  Directory  received  from  him  another  reminder  of 
its  position,  which  likewise  indicates  an  interesting  development  of 
his  own  policy.  "  Diminish  the  nimiber  of  your  enemies.  The  influ- 
ence of  Rome  is  incalculable;  it  was  ill  advised  to  break  with  that 
power ;  it  gives  the  advantage  to  her.  If  I  had  been  consulted,  I  would 
have  delayed  the  negotiations  with  Eome  as  with  Genoa  and  Venice. 
Whenever  your  general  in  Italy  is  not  the  pivot  of  everything,  you  rxm 
great  risks.  This  language  will  not  be  attributed  to  ambition ;  I  have 
but  too  many  honors,  and  my  health  is  so  broken  that  I  believe  I  must 
ask  you  for  a  successor.  I  can  no  longer  mount  a  horse ;  I  have  no- 
thing left  but  courage,  which  is  not  enough  in  a  post  hke  this."  Before 
this  masked  dictator  were  two  tasks  as  difficult  in  their  way  as  any 


iET.27]  BONAPARTE'S    IMPERIOUS    SPIRIT  2-^^ 

even  he  would  ever  undertake,  each  calhug  for  the  exercise  of  faculties  cn.  xxix 
antipodal  in  quality,  but  quite  as  fine  as  any  in  the  human  mind.  i"96 
Mantua  was  yet  to  be  captui*ed;  Rome  and  the  Pope  were  to  be 
handled  so  as  to  render  the  highest  service  to  himself,  to  France,  and 
to  Eiu'ope,  In  both  these  labors  he  meant  to  be  strengthened  and 
yet  unhampered.  The  habit  of  comphance  was  now  strong  upon  the 
Du'ectoiy,  and  they  continued  to  yield  as  before. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

eivoli  and  the  capitulation  of  mantua 
Austria's    Strategic    Plan — Renewal   of    Hostilities — The    Aus- 

TRIANS    at    RiVOLI    AND    NOGARA — BoNAPARTE'S    NiGHT    MaRCH    TO 
RiVOLI — MONTE    BaLDO    AND    THE    BeENER    KlAUSE — ThE    BaTTLE 

OF  RiVOLI — The  Battle  of  La  Favorita — Feats  of  the  French 
Army — Bonaparte's  Achievembnt — The  Fall  of  JVIantua, 

Ch.^xxx  rriHE  fifth  division  of  the  Italian  campaign  was  the  fom-th  attempt 
1797  X.  of  Austria  to  retrieve  her  position  in  Italy,  a  position  on  which 
her  rulers  heheved  that  aU  her  destinies  hung.  Once  more  Alvinczy, 
despairing  of  success,  but  obedient  to  his  orders,  made  ready  to  move 
down  the  Adige  from  Trent.  Great  zeal  had  been  shown  in  Austria. 
The  Vienna  volunteer  battahons  abandoned  the  work  of  home  protec- 
tion for  which  they  had  enhsted,  and,  with  a  banner  embroidered  by 
the  Empress's  own  hand,  joined  the  active  forces.  The  Tyi'olese,  in  de- 
fiance of  an  atrocious  proclamation  in  which  Bonaparte,  claiming  to  be 
their  conqueror,  had  threatened  death  to  any  one  taking  up  arms  against 
France,  flocked  again  to  the  support  of  their  Emperor.  By  a  recurrence 
to  the  old  fatal  plan,  Alvinczy  was  to  attack  the  main  French  army ; 
his  colleague  Provera  was  to  foUow  the  Brenta  into  the  lower  reaches 
of  the  Adige,  where  he  could  effect  a  crossing,  and  reUeve  Mantua.  The 
latter  was  to  deceive  the  enemy  by  making  a  parade  of  greater  strength 
than  he  really  had,  and  thus  draw  away  Bonaparte's  main  army 
toward  Legnago  on  the  lower  Adige.  A  messenger  was  despatched  to 
Wurmser  with  letters  over  the  Emperor's  own  signature,  ordering  him, 
if  Provera  should  fail,  to  desert  Mantua,  retreat  into  the  Romagna,  and 
under  his  own  command  unite  the  garrison  and  the  papal  troops.  This 
order  never  reached  its  destination,  for  its  bearer  was  intercepted,  and 

360 


^T.27]  RIVOLI    AND    THE    CAPITULATION    OF    MANTUA  251 

was  compelled  by  the  use  of  an  emetic  to  render  up  the  despatches    ch.  xxx 
which  he  had  swallowed.  1797 

On  January  seventh,  1797,  Bonaparte  gave  orders  to  strengthen  the 
communications  along  his  line,  massing  two  thousand  men  at  Bologna 
in  order  to  repress  certain  hostile  demonstrations  lately  made  in  behalf 
of  the  Pope.  On  the  following  day  an  Austrian  division  which  had 
been  lying  at  Padua  made  a  short  attack  on  Augereau's  division,  and  on 
the  ninth  drove  it  into  Porto  Legnago,  the  extreme  right  of  the  French 
line.  This  could  mean  nothing  else  than  a  renewal  of  hostihties  by 
Austria,  although  it  was  impossible  to  tell  where  the  main  attack  would 
be  made.  On  the  eleventh  Bonaparte  was  at  Bologna,  concluding  an 
advantageous  treaty  with  Tuscany ;  in  order  to  be  ready  for  any  event, 
he  started  the  same  evening,  hastened  across  the  Adige  with  his  troops, 
and  pressed  on  to  Verona. 

On  the  twelfth,  at  six  in  the  morning,  the  enemy  attacked  Massena's 
advance-guard  at  St.  Michel,  a  suburb  of  that  city.  They  were  re- 
pulsed with  loss.  Early  on  the  same  day  Joubert,  who  had  been  sta- 
tioned with  a  corps  of  observation  farther  up  in  the  old  and  tried  posi- 
tion at  the  foot  of  Monte  Baldo,  became  aware  of  hostUe  movements, 
and  occupied  Rivoli.  During  the  day  two  Austrian  colmnns  tried  to 
tmTi  his  position  by  seizing  his  outpost  at  Corona,  but  they  were  re- 
pulsed. On  the  thirteenth  he  became  aware  that  the  main  body  of 
the  Austrians  was  before  him,  and  that  their  intention  was  to  sun*ound 
hiin  by  the  left.  Accordingly  he  informed  Bonaparte,  abandoned 
Corona,  and  made  ready  to  retreat  from  Rivoli.  That  evening  Provera 
threw  a  pontoon  bridge  across  the  Adige  at  Anghiari,  below  Legnago, 
and  crossed  with  a  portion  of  his  army.  Next  day  he  started  for  Man- 
tua, but  was  so  harassed  by  Guieu  and  Augereau  that  the  move  was 
ineffectual,  and  he  got  no  farther  than  Nogara. 

The  heights  of  Rivoh  command  the  movements  of  any  force  passing 
out  of  the  Alps  through  the  valley  of  the  Adige.  They  are  abrupt  on 
aU  sides  but  one,  where  from  the  greatest  elevation  the  chapel  of  St. 
Mark  overlooked  a  winding  road,  steep,  but  available  for  cavahy  and 
artillery.  Rising  from  the  general  level  of  the  table-land,  this  hillock 
is  in  itself  a  kind  of  natural  citadel.  Late  on  the  thirteenth,  Joubert, 
in  reply  to  the  message  he  had  sent,  received  orders  to  fortify  the 
plateau,  and  to  hold  it  at  all  hazards ;  for  Bonaparte  now  divined  that 
the  main  attack  was  to  be  made  there  in  order  to  divert  all  opposition 


252  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  yxx  fi'om  Provera,  and  that  if  it  were  successful  the  two  Austrian  aiinies 
vm  would  meet  at  Mantua.  By  ten  that  evening  the  reports  brought  in 
from  Joubert  and  by  scouts  left  this  conclusion  no  longer  doubtful. 
That  very  night,  therefore,  being  in  perfect  readiness  for  either  event, 
Bonaparte  moved  toward  RivoU  with  a  force  numbering  about  twenty 
thousand.  It  was  composed  of  every  available  French  soldier  between 
Deseuzano  and  Yerona,  including  Massena's  division.  By  strenuous 
exertions  they  reached  the  heights  of  Rivoh  about  two  in  the  mormiig 
of  the  fom"teenth.  Alvinczy,  ignorant  of  what  had  happened,  was 
waiting  for  dayhght  in  order  to  carry  out  his  original  design  of  inclos- 
ing and  capturing  the  comparatively  small  force  of  Joubert  and  the 
strong  place  which  it  had  been  set  to  hold,  a  spot  long  since  recognized 
by  Northern  peoples  as  the  key  to  the  portal  of  Italy.  Bonaparte,  on 
his  arrival,  perceived  in  the  moonUght  five  divisions  encamped  in  a 
semicu'cle  below ;  then*  bivouac  fires  made  clear  that  they  were  sepa- 
rated from  one  another  by  considerable  distances.  He  knew  then  that 
his  instinct  had  been  correct,  that  this  was  the  main  army,  and  that  the 
decisive  battle  would  be  fought  next  day.  The  following  hours  were 
spent  in  disposing  his  forces  to  meet  the  attack  in  any  form  it  might 
take.  Not  a  man  was  wasted,  but  the  region  was  occupied  with  pick- 
ets, outposts,  and  reserves  so  ingeniously  stationed  that  the  study  of 
that  field,  and  of  Bonaparte's  disi)osition  of  his  forces,  has  become  a 
classic  example  in  mihtary  science. 

The  gorge  by  which  the  Adige  breaks  through  the  lowest  foot-hills 
of  the  Alps  to  enter  the  lowlands  has  been  famous  since  dim  antiquity. 
The  Romans  considered  it  the  entrance  to  Ciinmeria ;  it  was  sung  in 
German  myths  as  the  Berner  Klause,  the  majestic  gateway  fi-om  their 
inclement  clime  into  the  land  of  the  stranger,  the  warm,  bright  land  for 
the  luxurious  and  orderly  life  of  which  their  hearts  were  ever  yearning. 
Around  its  precipices  and  isolated,  frowning  bastions  song  and  fable 
had  clustered,  and  the  effect  of  mystery  was  enhanced  by  the  awful 
grandeur  of  the  scene.  Overlooking  all  stands  Monte  Baldo,  frown- 
ing with  its  dark  precipices  on  the  cold  summits  of  the  German  high- 
land, smihng  with  its  sunny  slopes  on  the  blue  waters  of  Lake  Garda 
and  the  fertile  vaUey  of  the  Po.  In  the  change  of  strategy  incident  to 
the  introduction  of  gunpowder  the  spot  of  greatest  resistance  was  no 
longer  ia  the  gorge,  but  at  its  mouth,  where  Rivoli  on  one  side,  and 
Ceraino  on  the  other,  command  respectively  the  gentle  slopes  which  fall 


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I 


^T.27]  RIVOLI    AND    THE    CAPITULATION    OF    MANTUA  253 

eastward  and  westward  toward  the  plains.    The.  Alps  were  indeed  look-    ch.  xxx 
ing  down  on  the  "  httle  corporal,"  who,  having  flanked  theu*  defenses        1797 
at  one  end,  was  now  about  to  force  then*  center,  and  later  to  pass  by 
then*  eastward  end  into  the  hereditary  dominions  of  the  German  empe- 
rors on  the  Danube. 

At  early  dawn  began  the  conflict  which  was  to  settle  the  fate  of 
Mantua.  The  first  fierce  contest  was  between  the  Austrian  left  and 
the  French  right  at  St.  Mark ;  but  it  quickly  spread  along  the  whole 
Hue  as  far  as  Caprino.  For  some  time  the  Austrians  had  the  advantage, 
and  the  result  was  in  suspense,  since  the  French  left,  at  Capiino,  yielded 
for  an  instant  before  the  onslaught  of  the  main  Austrian  army  made  in 
accordance  with  Alvinczy's  first  plan,  and,  as  he  supposed,  upon  an  in- 
ferior force  by  one  vastly  superior  in  numbers.  Berthier,  who  by  his 
calm  courage  was  fast  rising  high  in  his  commander's  favor,  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  Massena,  following  with  a  judgment  which  has  inseparably 
linked  his  name  with  that  famous  spot,  finally  restored  order  to  the 
French  ranks.  Every  successive  charge  of  the  Austrians  was  repulsed 
with  a  violence  which  threw  their  right  and  center  back  toward  Monte 
Baldo  in  ever  growing  confusion.  The  battle  waged  for  nearly  three 
hours  before  Alvinczy  understood  that  it  was  not  Joubert's  division,  but 
Bonaparte's  army,  which  was  before  him.  A  fifth  Austrian  column 
then  pressed  forward  from  the  bank  of  the  Adige  to  scale  the  height  of 
Rivoli,  and  Joubert,  whose  left  at  St.  Mark  was  hard  beset,  could  not 
check  the  movement.  For  an  instant  he  left  the  road  unprotected. 
The  Austrians  charged  up  the  bill  and  seized  the  commanding  posi- 
tion ;  but  simultaneously  there  rushed  from  the  opposite  side  three 
French  battahons,  clambering  up  to  retrieve  the  loss.  The  nervous 
activity  of  the  latter  brought  them  quickly  to  the  top,  where  at  once 
they  were  reinforced  by  a  portion  of  the  cavalry  reserve,  and  the  storm- 
ing colmnns  were  thrown  back  in  disorder.  At  that  instant  appeared 
in  Bonaparte's  rear  an  Austrian  corps  which  had  been  destined  to  take 
the  French  at  Rivoli  in  their  rear.  Had  it  arrived  sooner,  the  position 
would,  as  the  French  declared,  have  been  lost  to  them.  As  it  was,  in- 
stead of  making  an  attack,  the  Austrians  had  to  await  one.  Bonaparte 
directed  a  galling  artilleiy  fire  against  them,  and  threw  them  back  to- 
ward Lake  Garda.  He  thus  gained  tune  to  reform  his  own  ranks  and 
enabled  Massena  to  hold  in  check  still  another  of  the  Austrian  columns, 
which  was  striving  to  outflank  bim  on  his  left.    Thereupon  the  French 


254 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 


Ch.  XXX  reserve  under  Rey,  coining  in  from  the  westward,  cut  the  turning  col- 
1797  lunn  entirely  off,  and  compelled  it  to  sun*ender.  The  rest  of  Alvinczy's 
force  being  ah-eady  in  full  retreat,  this  ended  the  worst  defeat  and  most 
complete  rout  which  the  Austrian  arms  had  so  far  sustained.  Such  was 
the  utter  demoraUzation  of  the  flying  and  disintegrated  columns  that 
a  young  French  officer  named  Rene,  who  was  in  command  of  fifty 
men  at  a  hamlet  on  Lake  Garda,  successfully  imitated  Bonaparte's  mse 
at  Lonato,  and  displayed  such  an  imposing  confidence  to  a  flying  troop 
of  fifteen  hundred  Austrians  that  they  siuTendered  to  what  appeared  to 
be  a  force  superior  to  theu"  own.  Next  morning  at  dawn,  Murat,  who 
had  marched  aU  night  to  gain  the  point,  appeared  on  the  slopes  of  Monte 
Baldo  above  Corona,  and  united  with  Joubert  to  drive  the  Austrians 
from  their  last  foothold.  The  pursuit  was  continued  as  far  as  Trent. 
Thirteen  thousand  prisoners  were  captured  in  those  two  days. 

While  Murat  was  straining  up  the  slopes  of  Monte  Baldo,  Bonaparte, 
giving  no  rest  to  the  weary  feet  of  Massena's  division, — the  same  men 
who  two  days  before  had  marched  by  night  from  Verona, — was  retracing 
his  steps  on  that  well-worn  road  past  the  city  of  Catullus  and  the  Capulets 
onward  toward  Mantua.  Provera  had  crossed  the  Adige  at  Anghiari 
with  ten  thousand  men.  Twice  he  had  been  attacked:  once  in  the  front 
by  Guieu,  once  in  the  rear  by  Augereau.  On  both  occasions  his  losses 
had  been  severe,  but  nevertheless,  on  the  same  morning  which  saw  Al- 
vinczy's flight  into  the  Tyrol,  he  finally  appeared  with  six  thousand  men 
in  the  subm'b  of  St.  George,  before  Mantua.  He  succeeded  in  commu- 
nicating with  Wui'mser,  but  was  held  in  check  by  the  blockading  French 
army  throughout  the  day  and  night  until  Bonaparte  arrived  with  his 
reinforcements.  Next  morning  there  was  a  general  engagement,  Pro- 
vera attacking  in  front,  and  Wurmser,  by  preconcerted  arrangement, 
sallying  out  from  behind  at  the  head  of  a  strong  force.  The  latter  was 
thrown  back  into  the  town  by  Serurier,  who  commanded  the  besiegers, 
but  only  after  a  fierce  and  deadly  confiict  on  the  causeway.  This  was 
the  road  from  Mantua  to  a  country-seat  of  its  dukes  known  as  "  La  Fa- 
vorita,"  and  was  chosen  for  the  sortie  as  having  an  independent  citadel. 
Victor,  with  some  of  the  troops  brought  in  from  Rivoli,  the  "  terrible 
fifty-seventh  demi-brigade,"  as  Bonaparte  designated  them,  attacked 
Provera  at  the  same  time,  and  threw  his  ranks  into  such  disorder  that 
he  was  glad  to  smTcnder  his  enthe  force.  This  confiict  of  January  six- 
teenth, before  Mantua,  is  known  as  the  battle  of  La  Favorita,  from  the 


256 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 


ch.  XXX  stand  made  by  Serurier  ou  the  road  to  that  residence.  Its  results  were 
1797  six  thousand  prisoners,  among  them  the  Vienna  volunteers  with  the 
Empress's  banner,  and  many  guns. 

Bonaparte  estimated  that  the  army  of  the  repubhc  had  fought 
within  four  days  two  pitched  battles,  and  had  besides  been  six  times 
engaged ;  that  they  had  taken,  all  told,  nearly  twenty-five  thousand 
prisoners,  including  a  heutenant-general,  two  generals,  and  fifteen  col- 
onels, had  captm-ed  twenty  standards,  with  sixty  pieces  of  artillery,  and 
had  killed  or  wounded  six  thousand  men. 

This  short  campaign  of  Rivoh  was  the  tmnaing-point  of  the  war, 
and  may  be  said  to  have  shaped  the  history  of  Em-ope  for  twenty 
years.  Chroniclers  dwell  upon  those  few  moments  at  St.  Mark  and 
the  plateau  of  Rivoh,  wondering  what  the  result  would  have  been 
if  the  Austrian  corps  which  came  to  tm-n  the  rear  of  Rivoh  had 
arrived  five  minutes  sooner.  But  an  accurate  and  dispassionate  criti- 
cism must  decide  that  every  step  in  Bonaparte's  success  was  won  by 
careful  forethought,  and  by  the  most  effective  disposition  of  the  forces 
at  his  command.  So  sure  was  he  of  success  that  even  in  the  crisis 
when  Massena  seemed  to  save  the  day  on  the  left,  and  when  the  Aus- 
trians  seemed  destined  to  wrest  victory  from  defeat  on  the  right,  he 
was  self-rehant  and  cheerful.  The  new  system  of  field  operations  had 
a  triumphant  vindication  at  the  hands  of  its  author.  The  conquering 
general  meted  out  unstinted  praise  to  his  invincible  squadrons  and 
their  leaders,  but  said  nothing  of  himself,  leaving  the  world  to  judge 
whether  this  were  man  or  demon  who,  still  a  youth,  and  within  a  pub- 
lic career  of  but  one  season,  had  humiliated  the  proudest  empire  on  the 
Continent,  had  subdued  Italy,  and  on  her  soil  had  erected  states  un- 
known before,  without  the  consent  of  any  great  power,  not  excepting 
France.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  this  personage  should  sometimes 
have  said  of  himself,  "  Say  that  my  life  began  at  Rivoh,"  as  at  other 
times  he  dated  his  military  career  from  Toulon. 

Wurmser's  retreat  to  Mantua  in  September  had  been  successful  ber 
cause  of  the  strong  cavalry  force  which  accompanied  it.  He  had  been 
able  to  hold  out  for  four  months  only  by  means  of  the  flesh  of  their 
horses,  five  thousand  in  number,  which  had  been  killed  and  salted  to  in- 
crease the  garrison  stores.  Even  this  resource  was  now  exhausted,  and 
after  a  few  days  of  delay  the  gallant  old  man  sent  a  messenger  with  the 
usual  conventional  declarations  as  to  his  abihty  for  further  resistance, 


ioi,Lil    OF    VERSAILLES 


MARSHAL  JEAN-MATTHIEU-PHILIBERT,   COUNT  SERURIER 


tR'.iM    THfc:    I'AI-NTISO    BY    Jt^AN-LOUlS    LA.NKirVII.LK 


I 


^T.27]  RIVOLI    AND    THE    CAPITULATION    OF    MANTUA  257 

in  order,  of  course,  to  secm-e  tlie  most  favorable  terms  of  sm-render.  cn.  xxx 
There  is  a  fine  anecdote  in  connection  with  the  arrival  of  this  messen-  iw 
ger  at  the  French  headquarters,  which,  though  perhaps  not  literall)^  is 
probably  ideally,  true.  When  the  Austrian  envoy  entered  Senirier's 
presence,  another  person  wi-apped  in  a  cloak  was  sitting  at  a  table  ap- 
parently engaged  in  writing.  After  the  envoy  had  finished  the  usual 
enumeration  of  the  elements  of  strength  still  remaining  to  his  com- 
mander, the  unknown  man  came  forward,  and,  holding  a  written  sheet 
in  his  hand,  said :  "  Here  are  my  conditions.  If  Wurmser  really  had  pro- 
visions for  twenty-five  days,  and  spoke  of  sm-render,  he  would  not  de- 
serve an  honorable  capitulation.  But  I  respect  the  age,  the  gallantry, 
and  the  misfortunes  of  the  marshal ;  and  whether  he  opens  his  gates 
to-morrow,  or  whether  he  waits  fifteen  days,  a  month,  or  three  months, 
he  shall  still  have  the  same  conditions ;  he  may  wait  until  his  last  mor- 
sel of  bread  has  been  eaten."  The  messenger  was  a  clever  man  who 
afterward  rendered  his  own  name,  that  of  Klenau,  illustrious.  He  rec- 
ognized Bonaparte,  and,  glancing  at  the  terms,  found  them  so  generous 
that  he  at  once  admitted  the  desperate  straits  of  the  garrison.  This  is 
substantially  the  account  of  Napoleon's  memou's.  In  a  contemporary 
despatch  to  the  Directory  there  is  nothing  of  it,  for  he  never  indulged 
in  such  details  to  them ;  but  he  does  say  in  two  other  despatches  what 
at  first  blush  mihtates  against  its  literal  truth.  On  February  first,  writ- 
ing fi'om  Bologna,  he  declared  that  he  would  vpithdraw  his  conditions 
unless  Wurmser  acceded  before  the  third :  yet,  in  a  letter  of  that  very 
date,  he  indulges  in  a  long  and  high-minded  eulogium  of  the  aged  field- 
marshal,  and  declares  his  wish  to  show  true  French  generosity  to  such 
a  foe.  The  simple  explanation  is  that,  having  sent  the  tei-ms,  Bona- 
parte immediately  withdrew  from  Mantua  to  leave  Serurier  hi  command 
at  the  sun-ender,  a  glory  he  had  so  well  deserved,  and  then  returned 
to  Bologna  to  begin  his  final  preparations  against  Rome.  In  the  inter- 
val Wurmser  made  a  proposition  even  more  favorable  to  himself.  Bo- 
naparte petulantly  rejected  it,  but  with  the  return  of  his  generous  feel- 
iag,  he  determined  that  at  least  he  would  not  withdraw  his  fii'st  offer. 
Captious  critics  are  never  content,  and  they  even  charge  that  when,  on 
the  tenth,  Wurmser  and  his  garrison  finally  did  march  out,  Bonaparte's 
absence  was  a  breach  of  coui"tesy.  It  requires  no  great  ardor  in  his  de- 
fense to  assert,  on  the  contrary,  that  in  circumstances  so  unprecedented 
the  disparity  of  age  between  the  respective  representatives  of  the  old 


258  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  XXX  and  the  new  military  system  would  have  made  Bonaparte's  presence  an- 
1797  other  drop  in  the  bitter  cup  of  the  former.  The  magnanimity  of  the 
young  conqueror  in  connection  with  the  fall  of  Mantua  was  genuine, 
and  highly  honorable  to  him.  So  at  least  thought  Wurmser  himself, 
who  wrote  a  most  kindly  letter  to  Bonaparte,  forewarning  him  that  a 
plot  had  been  formed  in  Bologna  to  poison  him  with  that  noted,  but 
never  seen,  compound  so  famous  in  ItaUan  history  —  aqua  tofana. 


f! 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

HUMILIATION  OF  THE  PAPACY  AND   OF  VENICE 

Rome  Theeatened  —  Pius  VI.  Sukkendees  —  The  Peace  of  Tolen- 
TiNO  —  Bonaparte  and  the  Papacy  —  Designs  for  the  Orient  — 
The  Policy  of  Austria — The  Archduke  Charles — Bonaparte 
Hampered  by  the  Directory — His  Treatment  of  Venice — Con- 
dition OF  Yenetia — The  Commonwealth  Warned. 

BONAPARTE  seems  after  Rivoli  to  have  readied  the  conviction  ch.  xxxi 
that  a  man  who  had  brought  such  glory  to  the  arms  of  Prance  1797 
was  at  least  as  firm  in  the  affections  of  her  people  as  was  the  Directoiy, 
which  had  no  hold  on  them  whatever,  except  in  its  claim  to  represent 
the  Revolution.  It  had  had  httle  right  to  this  distinction  from  the  be- 
ginning, and  even  that  was  daily  disputed  by  ever  increasing  numbers : 
the  most  visible  and  dazzhng  representative  of  the  Revolution  was  now 
the  Army  of  Italy.  It  was  -not  for  "  those  rascally  lawyers,"  as  Bona- 
parte soon  afterward  called  the  directors,  that  Rivoh  had  been  fought. 
With  this  fact  in.  view,  the  short  ensuing  campaign  against  Pius  VI., 
and  its  consequences,  are  easily  understood.  It  was  true,  as  the  French 
general  proclaimed,  that  Rome  had  kept  the  stipulations  of  the  armis- 
tice neither  in  a  pacific  behavior  nor  in  the  payment  of  her  indemnity, 
and  was  fomenting  resistance  to  the  French  arms  throughout  the  pen- 
insula. To  the  Directory,  which  desu*ed  the  enth-e  overthrow  of  the 
papacy,  Bonaparte  proposed  that  with  this  in  view  Rome  shoidd  be 
handed  over  to  Spain.  Behind  these  pretexts  he  gathered  at  Bologna 
an  indifferent  force  of  eleven  thousand  soldiers,  composed  haK  of  his 
own  men,  the  other  half  of  ItaHans  fii-ed  with  revolutionary  zeal,  and  of 
Poles,  a  people  who,  since  the  recent  dismembennent  of  their  countiy, 
were  wooing  France  as  a  possible  ally  in  its  reconsti-uction.     The  main 


2G0 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 


ch.  xxxi    di\ision  marched  against  Ancona ;  a  smaller  one  of  two  thousand  men 
1797       directed  its  course  thi-ough  Tuscany  into  the  valley  of  the  Tiber. 

The  position  of  the  Pope  was  utterly  desperate.  The  Spaniards  had 
once  been  masters  of  Italy ;  they  were  now  the  natural  allies  of  France 
against  Austria,  and  Bonaparte's  leniency  to  Parma  and  Naples  had 
strengthened  the  bond.  The  reigning  king  at  Naples,  Ferdinand  IV. 
of  the  Two  Sicihes,  was  one  of  the  Spanish  Bourbons ;  but  his  very 
able  and  masterful  wife  was  the  daughter  of  Maria  Theresa.  His  posi- 
tion was  therefore  peculiar:  if  he  had  dared,  he  would  have  sent  an 
army  to  the  Pope's  support,  for  thus  far  his  consort  had  shaped  his 
pohcy  in  the  interest  of  Austria;  but  knowing  fuU  weU  that  defeat 
would  mean  the  limitation  of  his  domain  to  the  island  of  Sicily,  he  pre- 
ferred to  remain  neutral,  and  pick  up  what  crumbs  he  could  get  from 
Bonaparte's  table.  For  this  there  were  excellent  reasons.  The  Eng- 
Msh  fleet  had  been  more  or  less  unfortunate  since  the  spring  of  1796 : 
Bonaparte's  victories,  being  supplemented  by  the  activity  of  the  French 
cruisers,  had  made  it  difficult  for  it  to  remain  in  the  Mediterranean; 
Corsica  was  abandoned  in  September;  and  in  October  the  squadi'on 
of  Admiral  Mann  was  hteraUy  chased  into  the  Atlantic  by  the  Span- 
iards. Ferdinand,  therefore,  could  expect  no  help  from  the  British. 
As  to  the  papal  mercenaries,  they  had  long  been  the  laughing-stock  of 
Europe.  They  did  not  now  belie  their  character.  Not  a  single  serious 
engagement  was  fought ;  at  Ancona  and  Loretto  twelve  hundred  pris- 
oners, with  a  treasTU"e  valued  at  seven  million  francs,  were  taken  with- 
out a  blow ;  and  on  February  nineteenth  Bonaparte  dictated  the  terms 
of  peace  at  Tolentino. 

The  terms  were  not  such  as  either  the  Pope  or  the  Directory  ex- 
pected. Far  from  it.  To  be  sure,  there  was,  over  and  above  the  first 
ransom,  a  new  money  indemnity  of  fifteen  million  francs,  making,  when 
added  to  what  had  been  exacted  in  the  previous  summer,  a  total  of 
thirty-six.  Further  stipulations  were  the  surrender  of  the  legations  of 
BologTia  and  FeiTara,  together  with  the  Romagna ;  consent  to  the  in- 
corporation into  France  of  Avignon  and  the  Yenaissin,  the  two  papal 
possessions  in  the  Rhone  valley  which  had  already  been  annexed ;  and 
the  temporary  delivery  of  Ancona  as  a  pledge  for  the  fulfilment  of 
these  engagements;  further  still,  the  dispersion  of  the  papal  army, 
with  satisfaction  for  the  kilMng  in  a  street  row  of  Basseville,  the 
French  plenipotentiary.     This,  however,  was  far  short  of  the  annihi- 


i..,VTIO.V    \CrllUllUt['    m    TllK    AllT 

BULLETIN    OF    VICTORY    FROM    THE    ARMIES    OF    ITALY,     lyoy 

nuiM  Hit  I'MXTiNti  bv  oi-yii.^LS  cain. 


( 


iET.27]  HUMILIATION    OF    THE    PAPACY   AND    OF    VENICE  261 

lation  of  the  papacy  as  a  temporal  power.  More  than  that,  the  vital  Ch.  xxxi 
question  of  ecclesiastical  authority  was  not  mentioned  except  to  guar-  1797 
antee  it  in  the  surrendered  legations.  To  the  Du-ectory  Bonai)ai-te  ex- 
plained that  with  such  mutilations  the  Roman  edifice  would  fall  of 
its  own  weight ;  and  yet  he  gave  his  powerful  protection  to  the  French 
priests  who  had  refused  the  oaths  to  the  civil  constitution  requii'ed  by 
the  repuhhc,  and  who,  having  renounced  their  allegiance,  had  found  an 
asylum  in  the  Paj^al  States.  This  latter  step  was  taken  in  the  role  of 
humanitarian.  In  reahty,  this  fii'st  open  and  radical  departure  from 
the  poHcy  of  the  Directory  assured  to  Bonaparte  the  most  unbounded 
personal  popularity  with  faithful  Roman  Cathohcs  everywhere,  and 
was  a  step  preliminary  to  his  further  aUiance  with  the  papacy.  The 
unthinking  masses  began  to  compare  the  captivity  of  the  Roman 
Chm'ch  in  France,  which  was  the  work  of  her  government,  with  the 
widely  different  fate  of  her  faithful  adherents  at  Rome  under  the  hu- 
mane control  of  Bonaparte. 

Moreover,  it  was  the  French  citizen  collectors,  and  not  the  army, 
"who  continued  to  scour  every  town  for  art  plunder.  It  was  beheved 
that  Italy  had  finally  given  up  "all  that  was  cuiious  and  valuable  ex- 
cept some  few  objects  at  Turin  and  Naples,"  including  the  famous  won- 
der-working image  of  the  Lady  of  Loretto.  The  words  quoted  were 
used  by  Bonaparte  in  a  despatch  to  the  Directory,  which  inclosed  a 
curious  document  of  very  different  character.  Such  had  been  the  grati- 
tude of  Pius  for  his  preservation  that  he  despatched  a  legate  with  his 
apostohc  blessing  for  the  "  dear  son"  who  had  snatched  the  papal 
power  from  the  veiy  jaws  of  destruction.  "Dear  son"  was  merely  a 
formal  phrase,  and  a  gracious  answer  was  retiuned  from  the  French 
headquarters.  This  equally  foimal  letter  of  Bonaparte's  was  forwarded 
to  Paris,  where,  as  he  knew  would  be  the  case,  it  was  regarded  as  a 
good  joke  by  the  Directory,  who  were  supposed  to  consider  their  gen- 
eral's diplomacy  as  altogether  patriotic.  But,  as  no  doubt  the  writer 
foresaw,  it  had  an  altogether  different  effect  on  the  public.  From  that 
instant  every  pious  Roman  Cathohc,  not  only  in  France,  but  through- 
out Eiu-ope,  whatever  his  attitude  toward  the  Directory,  was  either  an 
avowed  ally  of  Bonaparte  or  at  least  willing  to  await  events  in  a  neutral 
spirit.  As  for  the  papacy,  henceforward  it  was  a  tool  in  the  con- 
queror's hand.  One  of  the  cardinals  gave  the  gracious  preserver  of  his 
order  a  bust  of  Alexander  the  Great :  it  was  a  common  piece  of  flattery 


262 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^Et.  27 


Ch.  yyxT    after  the  peace  to  say  that  Bonaparte  was,  Hke  Alexander,  a  Greek  in 
1797       statm-e,  and,  like  Caesar,  a  Roman  in  power. 

While  at  Ancona  Bonapai-te  had  a  temporary  relapse  into  his  yearn- 
ing for  Oriental  power.  He  wrote  describing  the  harbor  as  the  only 
good  one  on  the  Adiiatic  south  of  Venice,  and  explaining  how  in- 
valuable it  was  for  the  influence  of  France  on  Turkey,  since  it  con- 
trolled commimication  with  Constantinople,  and  Macedonia  was  but 
twenty-fom-  hours  distant.  With  this  despatch  he  inclosed  letters 
from  the  Czar  to  the  Grand  Master  of  Malta  which  had  been  seized  on 
the  person  of  a  cornier.  It  was  by  an  easy  association  of  ideas  that 
not  loug  afterward  Bonaparte  began  to  make  suggestions  for  the  seizure 
of  Malta  and  for  a  descent  into  Egypt.  These  were  old  schemes  of 
French  foreign  pohcy,  and  by  no  means  original  with  him ;  but  having 
long  been  kept  in  the  background,  they  were  easily  recalled,  the  more 
so  because  in  a  short  time  both  the  new  dictator  and  the  Directory 
seemed  to  find  in  them  a  remedy  for  their  strained  relations. 

Meantime  the  foreign  affairs  of  Austria  had  fallen  into  a  most  pre- 
carious condition.  Not  only  had  the  departm-e  of  the  English  fleet  from 
the  Mediterranean  fui'thered  Bonaparte's  success  in  Italy,  but  Russia 
had  given  notice  of  an  altered  pohcy.  If  the  modern  state  system  of 
Europe  had  rested  on  any  one  doctrine  more  firmly  than  on  another,  it 
was  on  the  theory  of  territorial  boundaries,  and  the  inviolability  of  na- 
tional existence.  Yet,  in  defiance  of  all  right  and  all  international  law, 
Prussia,  Russia,  and  Austria  had  in  1772  swooped  down  like  vultures 
on  Poland,  and  parted  large  portions  of  her  still  hving  body  among 
themselves.  The  operation  was  so  much  to  theu-  liking  that  it  had 
been  repeated  in  1792,  and  completed  in  1795.  The  last  division  had 
been  made  with  the  understanding  that,  in  return  for  the  lion's  share 
which  she  received,  Russia  would  give  active  assistance  to  Austria  in 
her  designs  on  northern  Italy.  Not  content  with  the  Milanese  and  a 
protectorate  over  Modena,  Francis  had  already  cast  his  eyes  on  the  Ve- 
netian mainland.  But  on  November  seventeenth,  1796,  the  great  Cath- 
erine died,  and  her  successor,  Paul,  refused  to  be  bound  by  his  mother's 
engagements.  Prussia  was  consohdating  herself  into  a  great  power 
likely  ia  the  end  to  destroy  Austrian  influence  in  the  Germanic  Diet, 
which  controlled  the  affairs  of  the  empire. 

The  horn'  was  dark  indeed  for  Austria ;  and  in  the  crisis  Thugut, 
the  able  minister  of  the  Emperor,  made  up  his  mind  at  last  to  throw  aU 


^T.27]  HUMILIATION    OF    THE    PAPACY    AND    OF    VENICE  263 

his  master's  military  strength  into  Italy.  The  youthful  Archduke  Cn.  xxxi 
Charles,  who  had  won  great  glory  as  the  conqueror  of  Jom-dan,  was  i797 
accordingly  summoned  fi'om  Germany  with  the  strength  of  his  anny  to 
break  thi'ough  the  Tyrol,  and  prevent  the  French  from  taking  the  now 
open  road  to  Vienna.  This  brother  of  the  Emperor,  though  but  twenty- 
five  years  old,  was  in  his  day  second  only  to  Bonaparte  as  a  general. 
The  splendid  persistence  with  which  Austria  raised  one  great  amiy 
after  another  to  oppose  France  was  worthy  of  her  traditions.  Even 
when  these  aimies  were  commanded  by  veterans  of  the  old  school,  they 
were  ten-ible :  it  seemed  to  the  cabinet  at  Vienna  that  if  Charles  were 
left  to  lead  them  in  accordance  with  his  own  designs  they  would  sm-ely 
be  victorious.  Had  he  and  his  Army  of  the  Ehine  been  in  Italy  from 
the  outset,  they  thought,  the  result  might  have  been  different.  Per- 
haps they  were  right ;  but  his  tardy  ari'ival  at  the  eleventh  hour  was 
destined  to  avail  nothing.  The  Auhc  Coimcil  ordered  him  into  Friuh, 
a  district  of  the  Itahan  Alps  on  the  borders  of  Venice,  where  another 
army  —  the  sixth  within  a  year  —  was  to  assemble  for  the  protection  of 
the  Austrian  fi'ontier  and  await  the  'anival  of  the  veterans  from  Ger- 
many. This  force,  unhke  the  other  five,  was  composed  of  heterogene- 
ous elements,  and,  xintil  further  strengthened,  inferior  in  numbers  to 
the  French,  who  had  finally  been  reinforced  by  fifteen  thousand  men, 
under  Bemadotte,  from  the  Army  of  the  Sambre  and  Meuse. 

When  Bonaparte  started  from  Mantua  for  the  Alps,  his  position  was 
the  strongest  he  had  so  far  secured.  The  Directory  had  until  then  shown 
their  uneasy  jealousy  of  him  by  refusing  the  reinforcements  which  he 
was  constantly  demanding.  It  had  become  evident  that  the  approach- 
ing elections  would  result  in  destroying  their  ascendancy  in  the  Five 
Hundred,  and  that  more  than  ever  they  must  depend  for  support  on 
the  army.  Accordingly  they  had  swallowed  their  pride,  and  made  Bona- 
parte strong.  Tills  change  in  the  pohcy  of  the  government  likewise 
affected  the  south  and  east  of  France  most  favorably  for  his  purposes. 
The  personal  pique  of  the  generals  commanding  in  those  districts  had 
subjected  him  to  many  inconveniences  as  to  communications  with 
Paris,  as  well  as  in  the  passage  of  troops,  stores,  and  the  Hke.  They 
now  recognized  that  in  the  approaching  pohtical  crisis  the  fate  of  the 
repubhc  would  hang  on  the  army,  and  for  that  reason  they  must  needs 
be  complaisant  with  its  foremost  figiu'e,  whose  exploits  had  dimmed 
even  those  of  Hoche  in  the  Netherlands  and  western  France.     Italy 


2G4 


LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [.f:T.  27 


ch.  xyxt  was  altogether  subdued,  and  there  was  not  a  hostile  power  in  the  rear 
1797  of  the  gi-eat  conqueror.  Among  many  of  the  conquered  his  name  was 
even  beloved:  for  the  people  of  Milan  his  life  and  surroundings  had 
the  same  interest  as  if  he  were  their  own  sovereign  prince.  In  fi-ont, 
however,  the  case  was  different ;  for  the  position  of  the  Ai-chduke 
Charles  left  the  territory  of  Venice  directly  between  the  hostile  armies 
in  such  a  way  as  apparently  to  force  Bonaparte  into  adopting  a  definite 
pohcy  for  the  treatment  of  that  power. 

For  the  moment,  however,  there  was  no  declaration  of  his  decision 
by  the  French  commander-in-chief;  not  even  a  formal  proposal  to  treat 
with  the  Venetian  ohgarchy,  which,  to  all  outward  appearance,  had  re- 
mained as  haughty  as  ever,  as  dark  and  inscrutable  in  its  dealings,  as 
doubtftd  in  the  matter  of  good  faith.  And  yet  a  method  in  Bonaparte's 
deahng  with  it  was  soon  apparent,  which,  though  unlike  any  he  had 
used  toward  other  Italian  powers,  was  perfectly  adapted  to  the  ends 
he  had  in  view.  He  had  already  violated  Venetian  neutrahty,  and  in- 
tended to  disregard  it  entu'ely.  As  a  foretaste  of  what  that  republic 
might  expect,  French  soldiers  were  let  loose  to  pillage  her  towns  un- 
til the  inhabitants  were  so  exasperated  that  they  retahated  by  kilhng  a 
few  of  their  spoilers.  Then  began  a  persistent  and  exasperating  pro- 
cess of  charges  and  complaints  and  admonitions,  until  the  origins  of 
the  respective  offenses  were  forgotten  in  the  intervening  recriminations. 
Then,  as  a  warning  to  aU  who  sought  to  endanger  the  "  friendly  rela- 
tions" between  the  countries,  a  troop  of  French  soldiers  would  be 
thrown  first  into  one  town,  then  into  another.  This  process  went  on 
without  an  interval,  and  with  merciless  vigor,  until  the  Venetian  offi- 
cials were  hterally  distracted.  Remonstrance  was  in  vain :  Bonaparte 
laughed  at  forms.  Finally,  when  protest  had  proved  unavailing,  the 
harried  oligarchy  began  at  last  to  arm,  and  it  was  not  long  before  forty 
thousand  men,  mostly  Slavonic  mercenaries,  were  enhsted  imder  its 
banner.  With  his  usual  concihatory  blandness,  Bonaparte  next  pro- 
posed to  the  senate  a  treaty  of  alhance,  offensive  and  defensive. 

This  was  not  a  mere  diplomatic  move.  Certain  considerations  might 
well  incline  the  oligarchy  to  accept  the  plan.  There  was  no  love  lost 
between  the  towns  of  the  Venetian  mainland  and  the  city  itself;  for 
the  aristocracy  of  the  latter  would  write  no  names  in  its  Golden  Book 
except  those  of  its  own  houses.  The  revolutionary  movement  had, 
moreover,  already  so  heightened  the  discontent  which  had  spread  east- 


II 


IN    JUL    IJirEEUL    COATEAT    OV    LASKXPrRr.,    AUSTRIA 


ES'JKAVED    UV    JI.    UAIUER 


ARCHDUKE    CHARLES    OF   AUSTRIA 


FBOM    THS    PAINTDiO    BY    LEOPOLD    KUPELWIE8ER 


^T.  27]  HUMILIATION    OF    THE    PAPACY    AND    OF   VENICE  265 

ward  from  the  Milanese,  and  was  now  prevalent  in  Brescia,  Bergamo,  cn.  xxxi 
and  Peschiera,  that  these  cities  really  favored  Bonaparte,  and  longed  1797 
to  separate  fi'om  Venice.  Fm-ther  than  this,  the  Venetian  senate  had 
early  in  January  been  informed  by  its  agents  in  Paris  of  a  inimor  that 
at  the  conclusion  of  peace  Austria  would  indemnify  herself  with  Vene- 
tian ten-itory  for  the  loss  of  the  Milanese.  The  disquiet  of  the  outly- 
ing cities  on  the  borders  of  Lombardy  was  due  to  a  desire  for  mnon 
with  the  Trauspadane  Republic.  They  little  knew  for  what  a  different 
fate  Bonaparte  destined  them.  He  was  really  holding  that  portion  of 
the  mainland  in  which  they  were  situated  as  an  indemnity  for  Austria. 
Venice  was  almost  sure  to  lose  them  in  any  case,  and  he  felt  that  if  she 
refused  the  French  alliance  he  could  then,  with  less  show  of  injustice, 
tender  them  and  their  territories  to  Francis,  in  exchange  for  Belgiimi. 
He  offered,  however,  if  the  republic  should  accept  his  proposition,  to 
assure  the  loyalty  of  its  cities,  provided  only  the  Venetians  would  in- 
scribe the  chief  families  of  the  mainland  in  the  Golden  Book. 

But  in  spite  of  such  a  suggestive  warning,  the  senate  of  the  com- 
monwealth adhered  to  its  pohcy  of  perfect  neutrality.  Bonaparte  con- 
sented to  this  decision,  but  ordered  it  to  disai-m,  agreeing  in  that  event 
to  control  the  liberals  on  the  mainland,  and  to  guarantee  the  Venetian 
territories,  leaving  behind  troops  enough  both  to  secui'e  those  ends  and 
to  guard  his  own  communications.  If  these  shotdd  be  tampered  with, 
he  warned  the  senate  that  the  knell  of  Venetian  independence  would 
toll  forthwith.  No  one  can  tell  what  would  have  been  in  store  for 
the  proud  city  if  she  had  chosen  the  alternative,  not  of  neutrality,  but 
of  an  alliance  with  France.  Bonaparte  always  made  his  plan  in  two 
ways,  and  it  is  probable  that  her  ultimate  fate  would  have  been  identi- 
cal in  either  case. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  PKELIMINAKIES   OF  LEOBEN 

AusTKiAN  Plans  fob  the  Last  Italian  Campaign — The  Battle  on 

THE  TaGLIAMENTO  —  ReTREAT  OF  THE  AkOHDUKE  ChAELES — BONA- 

paete's  Proclamation  to  the  Caeinthians — Joubert  Withdraws 
FROM  the  Tyrol — Bonaparte's  "Philosophical"  Letter — His  Sit- 
uation at  Leoben — The  Negotiations  for  Peace  —  Character  of 
THE  Treaty  —  Bonaparte's  Rude  Diplomacy  —  French  Successes 
on  the  Rhine  —  Plots  of  the  Directory  —  The  Uprising  of 
Venetia — War  with  Venice. 

Ch.xxxh  rriHE  Aulic  Council  at  Vienna  prepared  for  the  Archduke  Charles 
1797  JL  a  modification  of  the  same  old  plan,  only  this  time  the  approach 
was  down  the  Piave  and  the  Taghamento,  rivers  which  rise  among 
the  grotesque  Dolomites  and  in  the  Camic  Alps.  They  flow  south  like 
the  Adige  and  the  Brenta,  but  their  valleys  are  wider  where  they  open 
into  the  lowlands,  and  easier  of  access.  The  auxihary  force,  under  Lusi- 
gnan,  was  now  to  the  westward  on  the  Piave,  while  the  main  force,  under 
Charles,  was  waiting  for  reinforcements  in  the  broad  intervales  on  the 
upper  reaches  of  the  Taghamento,  through  which  ran  the  direct  road  to 
Vienna.  This  time  the  order  of  attack  was  exactly  reversed,  because 
Bonaparte,  with  his  strengthened  army  of  about  seventy-five  thousand 
men,  resolved  to  take  the  offensive  before  the  expected  levies  from  the 
Austrian  army  of  the  Rhine  should  reach  the  camp  of  his  foe.  The 
campaign  was  not  long,  for  there  was  no  resistance  from  the  inhabi- 
tants, as  there  would  have  been  in  the  German  Alps,  among  the  Tyi'o- 
lese,  Bonaparte's  embittered  enemies ;  and  the  united  force  of  Austria 
was  far  inferior  to  that  of  France.  Joubert,  with  eighteen  thousand 
men,  was  left  to  repress  the  Tyrol.  Two  small  forces  under  Kilmaine 
and  Victor  were  detailed  to  watch  Venice  and  Rome  respectively;  but 


^T.  27]  THE    PRELIMINARIES    OF    LEOBEN  267 

the  general  good  order  of  Italy  was  intrusted  to  the  native  legions    cn.xxxn 
which  Bonaparte  had  organized.  ito7 

Massena  advanced  up  the  Piave  against  Lusignan,  captm-ed  his 
rear-guard,  and  drove  him  away  northward  beyond  Belluno,  while  the 
Archduke,  thus  separated  from  his  right,  witlidrew  to  guard  the  road 
into  Carniola.  Bonaparte,  with  his  old  celerity,  reached  the  banks  of 
the  Tagliamento  opposite  the  Austrian  position  on  March  sixteenth, 
long  before  he  was  expected.  His  troops  had  marched  all  night,  but 
almost  immediately  they  made  a  feint  as  if  to  force  a  crossmg  in  the 
face  of  theii'  enemy.  The  Austrians  on  the  left  bank  awaited  the  onset 
in  perfect  order,  and  in  dispositions  of  cavahy,  artillery,  and  infantry 
admirably  adapted  to  the  gi-ound.  It  seemed  as  if  the  first  meeting  of 
the  two  young  generals  would  fall  out  to  the  advantage  of  Charles. 
But  he  was  neither  as  wily  nor  as  indefatigable  as  his  enemy.  The 
French  drew  back,  apparently  exhausted,  and  bivouacked  as  if  for  the 
night.  The  Austrians,  expecting  nothing  fui-ther  that  day,  and  stand- 
ing on  the  defensive,  followed  the  example  of  then-  opponents.  Two 
hours  elapsed,  when  suddenly  the  whole  French  army  rose  like  one 
man,  and,  falhng  into  hne  without  an  instant's  delay,  rushed  for  the 
stream,  which  at  that  spot  was  swift  but  fordable,  flowing  between 
wide,  low  banks  of  gi'avel.  The  surjirise  was  complete ;  the  stream 
was  crossed,  and  the  Austrians  had  barely  time  to  form  when  the 
French  were  upon  them.  They  fought  with  gallantry  for  three  houi"s 
until  their  flank  was  turned.  They  then  drew  off  in  an  orderly  retreat, 
abandoning  many  guns  and  losing  some  prisoners. 

Massena,  waiting  behind  the  intervening  ridge  for  the  signal,  ad- 
vanced at  the  first  sound  of  cannon  into  the  upper  vaUey  of  the  same 
stream,  crossed  it,  and  beset  the  passes  of  the  Italian  Alps,  by  which 
communication  with  the  Austrian  capital  was  quickest.  Charles  had 
nothing  left,  therefore,  but  to  withdi-aw  due  eastward  across  the  gi-eat 
divide  of  the  Alps,  where  they  bow  toward  the  Adriatic,  and  pass  into 
the  valley  of  the  Isonzo,  behind  that  full  and  i-ushing  stream,  which  he 
fondly  hoped  would  stop  the  French  pursuit.  The  frost,  however,  had 
bridged  it  in  several  places,  and  these  were  quickly  found.  Beniadotte 
and  Serurier  stormed  the  fortress  of  Gradisca,  and  captured  two  thou- 
sand five  hundred  men,  while  Massena  seized  the  fort  at  the  Chiusa 
Veneta,  and,  scattering  a  whole  division  of  fljnng  Austrians,  captured 
five  thousand  with  their  stores  and  equipments.     He  then  attacked  and 


268  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

Ch.  XXXII  routed  the  enemy's  guai-d  on  the  Pontebba  pass,  captured  Tarvis,  and 
1797  thus  cut  off  their  communication  with  the  Puster  valley,  by  which  the 
Austrian  detachment  from  the  Rhine  was  to  arrive. 

Bonaparte  wooed  the  stupefied  Carinthians  with  his  softly  worded 
proclamations,  and  his  advancing  columns  were  unharassed  by  the  peas- 
antry wliile  he  pushed  farther  on,  eaptming  Klagenfurt,  and  seizing 
both  Triest  and  Fiume,  the  only  harbors  on  the  Austrian  shore.  He 
then  returned  with  the  main  body  of  his  troops,  and,  crossing  the  pass 
of  Tarvis,  entered  Germany  at  VUlach,  "  We  are  come,"  he  said  to  the 
inhabitants,  "  not  as  enemies,  but  as  friends,  to  end  a  terrible  war  im- 
posed by  England  on  a  ministry  bought  with  her  gold."  And  the 
populace,  hstening  to  his  siren  voice,  beheved  him.  All  this  was  ac- 
comphshed  before  the  end  of  March ;  and  Charles,  his  army  reduced  to 
less  than  three  fom-ths,  was  resting  northward  on  the  road  to  Vienna, 
beyond  the  river  Mur,  exhausted,  and  expecting  daily  that  he  would  be 
compelled  to  a  further  retreat. 

Joubert  had  not  been  so  successful.  According  to  instructions,  he 
had  pushed  up  the  Adige  as  far  as  Brixen,  into  the  heart  of  the  hostile 
Tyrol.  The  Austrians  had  again  called  the  mountaineers  to  arms,  and 
a  considerable  force  under  Laudon  was  gathered  to  resist  the  invaders. 
It  had  been  a  general  but  most  indefinite  understanding  between  Bona- 
parte and  the  Directory  that  Moreau  was  again  to  cross  the  Rhine  and 
advance  once  more,  this  time  for  a  junction  with  Joubert  to  march 
against  Vienna.  But  the  directors,  in  an  access  of  suspicion,  had 
broken  their  word,  and  pleading  their  penmy,  had  not  taken  a  step 
toward  fitting  out  the  Army  of  the  North.  Moreau  was  therefore  not 
within  reach ;  he  had  not  even  crossed  the  Rhine.  Consequently  Jou- 
bert was  in  straits,  for  the  whole  country  had  now  risen  against  him. 
It  was  with  difficulty  that  he  had  advanced,  and  with  serious  loss  that 
he  fought  one  terrible  battle  after  another ;  finally,  however,  he  forced 
his  way  into  the  vaUey  of  the  Drave,  and  marched  down  that  river  to 
join  Bonaparte.  This  was  regarded  by  the  Austrians  as  a  virtual  re- 
pulse ;  both  the  Tyrol  and  Venice  were  jubUant,  and  the  effects  spread 
as  far  eastward  as  the  Austrian  provinces  of  the  Adi'iatic.  Triest  and 
Fiume  had  not  been  garrisoned,  and  the  Austrians  occupied  them  once 
more;  the  Venetian  senate  organized  a  secret  insim-ection,  which  broke 
out  simultaneously  in  many  places,  and  was  suppressed  only  after  many 
of  the  French,  some  of  them  invaUds  in  the  hospitals,  had  been  murdered. 


FRANCIS   I.,  EMPEROR   OF   AUSTRIA 


THE    rAINTINfl     IIY     I.EOI'fJl.l'     KI^I'EI.WIKSKH 


^T.27]  THE    PRELIMINARIES    OF    LEOBEN  o(jg 

On  March  thirty-first,  Bonaparte,  having  received  definite  and  offi-  cn.  xxxu 
cial  information  that  he  could  expect  no  immediate  support  from  the  iw 
Army  of  the  Rhine,  addressed  from  Klagenfurt  to  the  Archduke  what 
he  called  a  "philosophical"  letter,  calhng  attention  to  the  fact  that  it 
was  England  which  had  embroiled  France  and  Austria,  powers  which 
had  reaUy  no  grievance  one  against  the  other.  Would  a  prince,  so  far 
removed  by  lofty  bii'th  from  the  petty  weaknesses  of  ministers  and 
goveiTiments,  not  intervene  as  the  savior  of  Gei-many  to  end  the  miseries 
of  a  useless  war?  "As  far  as  I  myself  am  concerned,  if  the  commu- 
nication I  have  the  honor  to  be  making  should  save  the  life  of  a  single 
man,  I  should  be  prouder  of  that  civic  crown  than  of  the  sad  renown 
which  results  from  military  success."  At  the  same  time  Massena  was 
pressing  forward  into  the  valley  of  the  Mur,  across  the  passes  of  Neu- 
markt ;  and  before  the  end  of  the  week  his  seizui'e  of  St.  Michael  and 
Leoben  had  cut  off  the  last  hope  of  a  junction  between  the  forces  of 
Charles  and  his  expected  reinforcements  from  the  Rhine.  Austria  was 
carrying  on  her  preparations  for  war  with  the  same  proud  determi- 
nation she  had  always  shown,  and  Charles  continued  his  disastrous 
hostihties  with  Massena.  But  when  Thugut  received  the  "philosophi- 
cal "  letter  from  Bonaparte,  which  Charles  had  promptly  forwarded  to 
Vienna,  the  imperial  cabinet  did  not  hesitate,  and  plenipotentiaries  were 
soon  on  their  way  to  Leoben. 

The  situation  of  Bonaparte  at  Leoben  was  by  no  means  what  the 
position  of  the  French  forces  within  ninety  miles  of  Vienna  would 
seem  to  indicate.  The  revolutionary  movement  in  Venetia,  silently  but 
effectually  fostered  by  the  French  garrisons,  had  been  successful  in  Ber- 
gamo, Brescia,  and  Salo.  The  senate,  in  despau",  sent  envoys  to  Bona- 
parte at  Goritz.  His  reply  was  conciliatory,  but  he  declared  that  he 
would  do  nothing  unless  the  city  of  Venice  should  make  the  long-desh'ed 
concession  about  inscriptions  in  the  Golden  Book.  At  the  same  time 
he  demanded  a  monthly  payment  of  a  million  fi'ancs  in  Ueu  of  all  requi- 
sitions on  its  tenitory.  At  Paris  the  Venetian  ambassador  had  no 
better  success,  and  vdth  the  news  of  Joubert's  withdrawal  fi'om  the 
Tyrol  a  tenible  insun-ection  broke  out,  which  sacrificed  many  French 
hves  at  Verona  and  elsewhere.  Bonaparte's  suggestions  for  the  prehmi- 
naries  of  peace  with  Austria  had  been  di*awn  up  before  the  news  of  that 
event  reached  him :  but  with  the  Tyrol  and  Venice  all  aflame  in  his 
rear,  and  threatening  his  connections ;  with  no  prospect  of  assistance 


270  LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  xxxn    from  Moreau  in  enforcing  his  demands ;  and  with  a  growing  hostihty 

1797        showing  itself  among  the  populations  of  the  hereditary  states  of  Austria 

into  which  he  had  penetrated,  it  was  not  wonderful  that  his  original 

design  was  confirmed.      "At  Leoben,"  he  once  said,  "I  was  playing 

twenty-one,  and  I  had  only  twenty." 

When,  therefore,  Merveldt  and  Gallo,  the  duly  accredited  plenipo- 
tentiaries of  Austria,  and  Greneral  Bonaparte,  representing  the  French 
republic  but  with  no  formal  powers  from  its  government,  met  in  the 
castle  of  Goss  at  Leoben,  they  all  knew  that  the  situation  of  the  French 
was  very  precarious  indeed,  and  that  the  terms  to  be  made  could  not  be 
those  dictated  by  a  triumphant  conqueror  in  the  full  tide  of  victory. 
Neither  party  had  any  scruples  about  violating  the  public  law  of  Em-ope 
by  the  destruction  of  another  nationality  ;  but  they  needed  some  pre- 
text. While  they  were  in  the  opening  stages  of  negotiation  the  pretext 
came ;  for  on  April  ninth  Bonaparte  received  news  of  the  mm^ders  to 
which  reference  has  been  made,  and  of  an  engagement  at  Salo,  provoked 
by  the  French,  in  which  the  Bergamask  mountaineers  had  captured 
three  hundi-ed  of  the  garrison,  mostly  Poles.  This  affak  was  only  a 
little  more  serious  than  numerous  other  conflicts  incident  to  partizan 
warfare  which  were  daily  occurring ;  but  it  was  enough.  With  a  feigned 
fury  the  French  general  addressed  the  Venetian  senate  as  if  their  land 
were  utterly  irreconcilable,  and  demanded  from  them  impossible  acts  of 
reparation.  Junot  was  despatched  to  Venice  with  the  message,  and  de- 
hvered  it  fi-om  the  floor  of  the  senate  on  April  fifteenth,  the  veiy  day 
on  which  his  chief  was  concluding  negotiations  for  the  dehvery  of  the 
Venetian  mainland  to  Austria. 

So  strong  had  the  peace  party  in  Vienna  become,  and  such  was 
the  terror  of  its  inhabitants  at  seeing  the  coui't  hide  its  treasui"es  and 
prepare  to  fly  into  Hungary,  that  the  plenipotentiaries  could  only  ac- 
cept the  offer  of  Bonaparte,  which  they  did  with  ill-concealed  delight. 
There  was  but  one  point  of  difference,  the  grand  duchy  of  Modena, 
which  Francis  for  the  honor  of  his  house  was  determined  to  keep,  if 
possible.  With  Tuscany,  Modena,  and  the  Venetian  mainland  aU  in 
their  hands,  the  Austrian  authorities  felt  that  time  would  surely  restore 
to  them  the  lost  Milanese.  But  Bonaparte  was  obdm'ate.  On  the  eigh- 
teenth the  preliminaries  were  closed  and  adopted.  The  Austrians  sol- 
emnly declared  at  the  time  that,  when  the  papers  were  to  be  exchanged 
formally,  Bonaparte  presented  a  copy  which  pm-ported  to  be  a  counter- 


^T.  27]  THE    PRELIMINARIES    OF    LEOBEN  271 

part  of  what  had  been  mutually  an*auged.  Essential  differences  were,  cn.  xxxn 
however,  almost  immediately  marked  by  the  recipients,  and  when  they  i™^ 
announced  their  discovery  with  violent  clamor,  the  cool,  sarcastic  gen- 
eral produced  without  remark  another  copy,  which  was  found  to  be  a 
coiTect  reproduction  of  the  prehniinary  terms  agi'ced  upon.  According 
to  these  France  was  to  have  Belgium,  with  the  "  limits  of  France  "  as 
decreed  by  the  laws  of  the  repubhc,  a  pm-posely  ambiguous  expression. 
Austria  obtained  the  longed-for  mainland  of  Venice  as  far  as  the  river 
Ogho,  together  with  Istria  and  Dalmatia,  the  Venetian  dependencies 
beyond  the  Adriatic,  while  Venice  herself  was  to  be  nominally  indem- 
nified by  the  receipt  of  the  three  papal  legations,  Bologna,  Fen-ara, 
and  the  Romagna.  Modena  was  to  be  imited  with  Mantua,  Reggio, 
and  the  Milanese  into  a  great  central  repubhc,  which  would  always 
be  dependent  on  France,  and  was  to  be  connected  with  her  tenitory 
by  way  of  Genoa.  Some  of  the  articles  were  secret,  and  all  were  sub- 
ject to  immaterial  changes  in  the  final  negotiations  for  definitive  peace, 
which  were  to  be  carried  on  later  at  Bern,  chosen  for  the  pui'pose  as 
being  a  neutral  city. 

Bonaparte  explained,  in  a  letter  to  the  Directory,  that  whatever  oc- 
curred, the  Papal  States  could  never  become  an  integral  part  of  Venice, 
and  would  always  be  imder  French  influences.  His  sincerity  was  no 
greater,  as  the  event  showed,  concerning  the  very  existence  of  Venice 
herseK.  The  terms  he  had  made  were  considered  at  Vienna  most  favor- 
able, and  there  was  great  rejoicing  in  that  capital.  But  it  was  signifi- 
cant that  in  the  routine  negotiations  the  old-school  diplomatists  had 
been  sadly  shocked  by  the  behavior  of  theu*  mihtary  antagonist,  who, 
though  a  mere  tyro  in  then*  art,  was  very  hard  to  deal  with.  At  the 
outset,  for  instance,  they  had  proposed  to  incoi'porate,  as  the  first  arti- 
cle in  the  preliminaries,  that  for  which  the  Directory  had  long  been  ne- 
gotiating with  Austria,  a  recognition  of  the  French  repubhc.  "  Strike 
that  out,"  said  Bonaparte.  "  The  Repubhc  is  like  the  sun  on  the  hori- 
zon— all  the  worse  for  him  who  will  not  see  it."  This  was  but  a  fore- 
taste of  ruder  dealings  which  followed,  and  of  still  more  violent  breaches 
with  tradition  in  the  long  negotiations  which  were  to  ensue  over  the 
definitive  treaty. 

The  very  day  on  which  the  signatures  were  affixed  at  Leoben,  the 
Austrian  arms  were  humbled  by  Hoche  on  the  Rhine.  Moreau  had  not 
been  able  to  move  for  lack  of  a  paltry  sum  which  he  was  begging  for, 


272  LIFE    OP    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  XXXII  but  could  not  obtain,  from  the  Directoiy  Hoche,  chafing  at  similar  de- 
1797  lays,  and  anxious  to  atone  for  Jourdan's  conduct  of  the  previous  year, 
finally  set  forth,  and,  crossing  at  Neuwied,  advanced  to  Heddersdorf, 
where  he  attacked  the  Austrians,  who  had  been  weakened  to  strengthen 
the  Archduke  Charles.  They  were  routed  with  a  loss  of  six  thousand 
prisoners.  Another  considerable  force  was  nearly  surrounded  when  a 
sudden  stop  was  put  to  Hoche's  career  by  the  arrival  of  a  courier  from 
Leoben.  In  the  Black  Forest  Desaix,  having  crossed  the  Rhine  with 
Moreau's  army  below  Strasburg,  was  likewise  didving  the  Austrians  be- 
fore him.  He  too  was  similarly  checked,  and  these  brilliant  achieve- 
ments came  all  too  late.  No  advantage  was  gained  by  them  in  the  terms 
of  peace,  and  the  glory  of  humihating  Austria  remained  to  Bonaparte. 

Throughout  all  France  there  was  considerable  dissatisfaction  with 
Bonaparte's  moderation,  and  a  feehng  among  extreme  repubUcans, 
especially  in  the  Directory,  that  he  should  have  destroyed  the  Austrian 
monarchy.  LareveUiere  and  Rewbell  were  altogether  of  this  opinion, 
and  the  corrupt  Barras  to  a  certain  extent,  for  he  had  taken  a  bribe  of 
six  hundi-ed  thousand  francs  from  the  Venetian  ambassador  at  Paris,  to 
compel  the  repression  by  Bonaparte  of  the  rebels  on  the  mainland. 
The  correspondence  of  various  emissaries  connected  with  this  afi'air  fell 
into  the  general's  hands  at  Milan,  and  put  the  Directory  more  com- 
pletely at  his  mercy  than  ever.  On  April  nineteenth,  however,  he 
wrote  as  if  in  reply  to  such  strictures  as  might  be  made :  "If  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  campaign  I  had  persisted  in  going  to  Tm'in,  I  never 
should  have  passed  the  Po;  if  I  had  persisted  in  going  to  Rome,  I 
should  have  lost  Milan ;  if  I  had  persisted  in  going  to  Vienna,  perhaps 
I  should  have  overthrovni  the  Repubhc."  He  weU  imderstood  that 
fear  would  yield  what  despair  might  refuse.  It  was  a  matter  of  course 
that  when  the  terms  of  Leoben  reached  Paris  the  Dhectory  ratified 
them :  even  though  they  had  been  irregularly  negotiated  by  an  unau- 
thorized agent,  they  separated  England  from  Austria,  and  crushed  the 
coahtion.  One  thing,  however,  the  directors  notified  Bonaparte  he 
must  not  do ;  that  was,  to  interfere  further  in  the  affairs  of  Venice. 
This  order  reached  him  on  May  eighth;  but  just  a  week  before, 
Venice,  as  an  independent  state,  had  ceased  to  exist. 

Accident  and  crafty  prearrangement  had  combined  to  bring  the 
affairs  of  that  ancient  commonwealth  to  such  a  crisis.  The  general  in- 
surrection and  the  fight  at  Salo  had  given  a  pretext  for  disposing  of  the 


DRAWINQ    MADE    FOR    THE    CENTORT    CO. 

CAPTURE   OF   THE    PASS   OF  TARVIS 

FROM    Till':    DRAWIN*!     liY     II.    CMAItTIKIt 


i;SlUtAVKl>    UV    l~    II.    I'HI-OUMJ; 


I 


^T.27]  THE    PRELIMINARIES    OF    LEOBEN 


273 


Venetian  mainland;  soon  after,  the  inevitable  results  of  French  occupa-  ch.xxxu 
tion  afforded  the  opportunity  for  destroying  the  oHgarchy  altogether.  mi 
The  evacuation  of  Verona  by  the  gan-ison  of  its  former  masters  had 
been  ordered  as  a  part  of  the  general  disannament  of  Italy.  The 
Veronese  were  intensely,  fiercely  indignant  on  learning  that  they  were  to 
be  transferred  to  a  hated  allegiance ;  and  on  Apiil  seventeenth,  when  a 
party  appeared  to  reinforce  the  French  troops  ah-eady  there,  the  citizens 
rose  in  a  frenzy  of  indignation,  and  di'ove  the  hated  invaders  into  the 
citadel.  Dming  the  following  days,  thi-ee  hundi'ed  of  the  French  civil- 
ians in  the  town,  all  who  had  not  been  able  to  find  refuge,  were  massa- 
cred; old  and  young,  sick  and  well.  At  the  same  time  a  detachment 
of  Austrians  under  Laudon  came  in  from  the  Tyrol  to  join  Fioravente, 
the  Venetian  general,  and  his  Slavs.  This  of  coui-se  increased  the 
tumult,  for  the  French  began  to  bombard  the  city  from  the  citadel.  For 
a  moment  the  combined  besiegers,  exaggerating  the  accounts  of  Jou- 
bert's  withdrawal  and  of  Moreau's  faHm-e  to  advance,  hoped  for  ultimate 
success,  and  the  overthi'ow  of  the  French.  But  riunors  fi'om  Leoben 
caused  the  Austrians  to  withdi'aw  up  the  Adige,  and  a  Lombard  regi- 
ment came  to  the  assistance  of  the  French.  The  Venetian  forces  were 
captured,  and  the  city  was  disarmed;  so  also  were  Peschiera,  Castel- 
nuovo,  and  many  others  which  had  made  no  resistance. 

Two  days  after  this  furious  outbreak  of  Veronese  resentment, — an 
event  which  is  known  to  the  French  as  the  Veronese  Vespers, — occuiTed 
another,  of  vastly  less  importance  in  itseK,  but  having  perhaps  even 
more  value  as  cimiulative  evidence  that  the  wound  ah'eady  inflicted  by 
Bonaparte  on  the  Venetian  state  was  mortal.  A  French  vessel,  flying 
before  two  Austrian  cruisers,  appeared  off  the  Lido,  and  anchored  un- 
der the  arsenal.  It  was  contrary  to  immemorial  custom  for  an  armed 
vessel  to  enter  the  harbor  of  Venice,  and  the  captain  was  ordered  to 
weigh  anchor.  He  refused.  Thereupon,  in  stupid  zeal,  the  guns  of  the 
Venetian  forts  opened  on  the  ship.  Many  of  the  crew  were  kiUed,  and 
the  rest  were  thrown  into  prison.  This  was  the  final  stroke,  all  that 
was  necessary  for  the  justification  of  Bonaparte's  plans.  An  embassy 
from  the  senate  had  been  with  him  at  Gratz  when  the  awful  news  fi'om 
Verona  came  to  his  headquarters.  He  had  then  treated  them  harshly, 
demanding  not  only  the  liberation  of  eveiy  man  confined  for  pohtical 
reasons  within  their  prison  walls,  but  the  sun-ender  of  their  inquisitors 
as  well.     "  I  win  have  no  more  Inquisition,  no  more  Senate ;  I  shall  be 

S7 


274 
ch.  xxxn 

1797 


LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE 


[^T.  27 


\ 


an  Attila  to  Venice !  ,  .  .  I  want  not  your  alliance  nor  your  schemes ; 
I  mean  to  lay  down  the  law."  They  left  his  presence  with  gloomy  and 
accurate  forebodings  as  to  what  was  in  those  secret  articles  which  had 
been  executed  at  Leoben.  When,  two  days  later,  came  this  news  of 
fm'ther  conflict  with  the  French  in  Venice  itself,  the  envoys  were  dis- 
missed, without  another  audience,  by  a  note  which  declared  that  its 
writer  "  could  not  receive  them,  dripping  as  they  were  with  French 
blood."  On  May  third,  having  advanced  to  Palma,  Bonaparte  declared 
war  against  Venice.  In  accordance  with  the  general  hcense  of  the 
age,  hostihties  had,  however,  already  begun;  for  as  early  as  April 
tlurtieth  the  French  and  their  Italian  helpers  had  fortified  the  lowlands 
between  the  Venetian  lagoons,  and  on  May  first  the  main  army  appeared 
at  Fusina,  the  neai-est  point  on  the  mainland  to  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XXXni 

the  fall  of  venice 

Feebleness  of  the  Venetian  Oligaechy — Its  Ovektheow — Bona- 
pabte's  Duplicity — Letteks  of  Opposite  Pukport — Montebello 
— The  Republican  Couet — England's  Peoposition  foe  Peace  — 
Plans  of  the  Dieectoey — Geneeal  Claeke's  Diplomatic  Caeeer 
— Conduct  of  Mme.  Bonapaete — Bonapaete's  Jealous  Tender- 
ness— His  Wife's  Social  Conquests. 

SINCE  the  days  of  Carthage  no  govemment  like  that  of  the  Yene-  ch.  xxxui 
tian  ohgarchy  had  existed  on  the  earth.  At  its  best  it  was  dark  1^97 
and  remorseless ;  with  the  disappearance  of  its  vigor  its  despotism  had 
become  somewhat  milder,  but  even  yet  no  common  man  might  di'aw 
the  veil  from  its  mysterious,  irresponsible  councils  and  hve.  A  few 
hundred  famihes  administered  the  country  as  they  did  their  private 
estates.  All  inteUigence,  all  hberty,  all  personal  independence,  were 
repressed  by  such  a  system.  The  more  enlightened  Venetians  of  the 
mainland,  many  even  in  the  city,  feehng  the  influences  of  the  time,  had 
long  been  uneasy  under  their  govemment,  smoothly  as  it  seemed  to  lom 
in  time  of  peace.  Now  that  the  earth  was  quaking  under  the  march  of 
Bonaparte's  troops,  that  govemment  was  not  only  helpless,  but  in  its 
panic  it  actually  grew  contemptible,  displaying  by  its  conduct  how  ur- 
gent was  the  necessity  for  a  change.  The  senate  had  a  powerful  fleet, 
three  thousand  native  troops,  and  eleven  thousand  mercenaries;  but 
they  struck  only  a  single  futile  blow  on  then-  own  account,  permitting 
a  rash  captain  to  open  fire  from  the  gunboats  against  the  French  van- 
guard when  it  appeared.  But  immediately,  as  if  in  fear  of  their  own 
temerity,  they  despatched  an  embassy  to  learn  the  will  of  the  approach- 
ing general.  That  his  dealings  might  be  merciful,  they  tried  the 
plan  of  Modena,  and  offered  him  a  bribe  of  seven  million  francs ;  but, 


276  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  xxxin  as  in  the  case  of  Modena,  he  refused.  Next  day  the  Great  Council 
1797  having  been  summoned,  it  was  determined  by  a  nearly  unanimous 
vote  of  the  patricians — sis  hundred  and  ninety  to  twenty-one — that 
they  would  remodel  then'  institutions  on  democratic  hues.  The 
pale  and  tenified  Doge  thought  that  in  such  a  siurender  lay  the 
last  hope  of  safety. 

Not  for  a  moment  did  Lallemant  and  Villetard,  the  two  French 
agents,  intermit  their  revolutionary  agitation  in  the  town.  Disorders 
grew  more  frequent,  while  uncertainty  both  paralyzed  and  disintegi-ated 
the  patrician  party.  A  week  later  the  government  virtually  abdicated. 
Two  utter  strangers  appeared  in  a  theatrical  way  at  its  doors,  and  sug- 
gested in  writing  to  the  Great  Council  that  to  appease  the  spirit  of  the 
times  they  shotdd  plant  the  hberty-tree  on  the  Place  of  St.  Mark,  and 
speedily  accede  to  all  the  propositions  for  hberahzing  Venice  which  the 
popular  temper  seemed  to  demand.  Such  were  the  terror  and  disor- 
ganization of  the  aristocracy  that  instead  of  punishing  the  intrusion  of 
the  uri known  reformers  by  death,  according  to  the  traditions  of  their 
merciless  procedure,  they  took  measures  to  carry  out  the  suggestions 
made  in  a  way  as  dark  and  significant  as  any  of  their  ovni.  The  fleet 
was  dismantled,  and  the  army  disbanded.  By  the  end  of  the  month 
the  revolution  was  virtually  accompUshed ;  a  rising  of  their  supporters 
having  been  mistaken  by  the  Great  Council,  in  its  pusillanimous  terror, 
for  a  rebelHon  of  their  antagonists,  they  decreed  the  abohtion  of  all  ex- 
isting institutions,  and,  after  hastily  organizing  a  provisional  govern- 
ment, disbanded.  Foiu-  thousand  French  soldiers  occupied  the  town, 
and  an  ostensible  treaty  was  made  between  the  new  repubUc  of  Venice 
and  that  of  France. 

This  treaty  was  really  nothing  but  a  pronunciamento  of  Bonaparte. 
He  decreed  a  general  amnesty  to  all  offenders  except  the  commander 
of  Fort  Luco,  who  had  recently  fired  on  the  French  vessel.  He  also 
guaranteed  the  pubhc  debt,  and  promised  to  occupy  the  city  only  as  long 
as  the  pubUc  order  required  it.  By  a  series  of  secret  articles  Venice  was 
to  accept  the  stipulations  of  Leoben  in  regard  to  territory,  pay  an  in- 
demnity of  six  million  francs,  and  furnish  three  ships  of  the  line  and 
two  frigates,  while,  in  pursuance  of  the  general  pohcy  of  the  French 
repubUc,  experts  were  to  select  twenty  pictures  from  her  galleries,  and 
five  hundred  manuscripts  from  her  hbraries.  Whatever  was  the  under- 
standing of  those  who  signed  these  crushing  conditions,  the  city  was 


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^T.  271  THE    FALL    OF    VENICE  277 

never  again  treated  by  any  European  power  as  an  independent  state,  ch.  xxxni 
Soon  afterward  a  French  expedition  was  d(»spatelied  to  occupy  her  isl-  it»7 
and  possessions  in  the  Levant.  The  aiTangements  had  ])een  carefully 
prepared  during  the  very  time  when  the  provisional  government  be- 
heved  itself  to  be  paying  the  price  of  its  new  hberties.  And  earlier 
still,  on  May  twenty-seventh,  three  days  before  the  abdication  of  the 
aristocracy,  Bonaparte  had  already  offered  to  Austria  the  entire  repub- 
lic in  its  proposed  form  as  an  exchange  for  the  German  lands  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Rhine. 

Writing  to  the  Directoiy  on  that  day,  he  declared  that  Venice,  which 
had  been  in  a  decline  ever  since  the  discovery  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
and  the  rise  of  Triest  and  Ancona,  could  with  difficulty  survive  the 
blows  just  given  her.  "  This  miserable,  cowardly  people,  unfit  for  lib- 
erty, and  without  land  or  water  —  it  seems  natm-al  to  me  that  we  should 
hand  them  over  to  those  who  have  received  then-  mainland  from  us. 
We  shall  take  all  their  ships,  we  shall  despoil  their  arsenal,  we  shall 
remove  all  their  cannon,  we  shall  wreck  their  bank,  we  shall  keep 
Corfu  and  Ancona  for  ourselves."  On  the  twenty-sixth,  only  the  day 
previous,  a  letter  to  his  "  friends  "  of  the  Venetian  provisional  govern- 
ment had  assured  them  that  he  would  do  all  in  his  power  to  confirm 
their  liberties,  and  that  he  earnestly  desired  that  Italy,  "  now  covered 
with  glory,  and  free  fi'om  every  foreign  influence,  should  again  appear 
on  the  world's  stage,  and  assert  among  the  great  powers  that  station  to 
which  by  nature,  position,  and  destiny  it  was  entitled."  Ordinary  minds 
cannot  gi-asp  the  guile  and  daring  which  seem  to  have  foreseen  and  pre- 
arranged all  the  conditions  necessary  to  plans  which  for  double-deahng 
transcended  the  conceptions  of  men  even  in  that  age  of  duplicity  and 
selfishness. 

Not  far  fi'om  Milan,  on  a  gentle  rise,  stands  the  famous  villa,  or 
country-seat,  of  Montebello.  Its  windows  command  a  scene  of  rare 
beauty :  on  one  side,  in  the  distance,  the  mighty  Alps,  with  theh*  peaks 
of  never-melting  ice  and  snow ;  ou  the  other  thi-ee,  the  almost  voluptu- 
ous beauty  of  the  fertile  plains ;  while  in  the  near  foreground  lies  the 
great  capital  of  Lombardy,  with  its  splendid  industries,  its  stores  of  art, 
and  its  crowded  spires  hoary  with  antiquity.  Within  easy  reach  are  the 
exquisite  scenes  of  an  enchanted  region  —  that  of  the  Italian  lakes.  To 
this  lordly  residence  Bonaparte  withdrew.  His  summer's  task  was  to 
be  the  pacification  of  Europe,  and  the  consoMdation  of  his  own  power 


278  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

Ch.  xxxin  ill  Italy,  in  France,  and  northward  beyond  the  Alps.  The  two  objects 
1797  went  hand  in  hand.  From  Austria,  from  Rome,  from  Naples,  from 
Turin,  from  Parma,  from  Switzerland,  and  even  from  the  minor  Ger- 
man principahties  whose  fate  hung  on  the  rearrangement  of  German 
lands  to  be  made  by  the  Diet  of  the  Empire,  agents  of  every  kind,  both 
mihtary  and  diplomatic,  both  secret  and  accredited,  flocked  to  the  seat 
of  power.  Expresses  came  and  went  in  all  directions,  while  humble 
suitors  vied  with  one  another  in  homage  to  the  risen  sun. 

The  uses  of  rigid  etiquette  were  well  understood  by  Bonaparte.  He 
appreciated  the  dazzling  power  of  ceremony,  the  fascination  of  conde- 
scension, and  the  influence  of  woman  in  the  conduct  of  affairs.  All 
such  influences  he  lavished  wdth  a  profusion  which  could  have  been 
conceived  only  by  an  Oriental  imagination.  As  if  to  overpower  the 
senses  by  an  impressive  contrast,  and  symbolize  the  triumph  of  that 
dominant  Third  Estate  of  which  he  claimed  to  be  the  champion  against 
aristocrats,  princes,  kings,  and  emperors,  the  simplicity  of  the  Revolu- 
tion was  personified  and  emphasized  in  his  own  person.  His  ostenta- 
tious frugality,  his  disdain  for  dress,  his  contempt  for  personal  wealth 
and  its  outward  signs,  were  all  heightened  by  the  setting  which  inclosed 
them,  as  a  frame  of  briUiants  often  heightens  the  character  in  the  por- 
trait of  a  homely  face. 

Meantime  England  was  not  a  passive  spectator  of  events  in  Italy. 
At  the  close  of  1796  Pitt's  administration  was  in  great  straits,  for  the 
Tories  who  supported  him  were  angered  by  his  lack  of  success,  while 
the  Whig  opposition  was  correspondingly  jubilant  and  daily  growing 
stronger.  The  navy  had  been  able  to  presei-ve  appearances,  but  that 
was  aU.  There  was  urgent  need  for  reform  in  tactics,  in  administra- 
tion, and  in  equipment.  France  had  made  some  progress  in  aU  these 
directions,  and,  in  spite  of  EngHsh  assistance,  both  the  Vendean  and 
the  Chouan  insurrections  had,  to  aU  appearance,  been  utterly  crushed. 
Subsequently  a  powerful  expedition  under  Hoche  was  equipped  and 
held  in  readiness  to  sail  for  Ireland,  there  to  organize  rebellion,  and 
give  England  a  draught  from  her  own  cup.  It  was  clear  that  the 
Whigs  would  score  a  triumph  at  the  coming  elections  if  something 
were  not  done.  Accordingly  Pitt  determined  to  open  negotiations  for 
peace  with  the  Directory.  As  his  agent  he  unwisely  chose  Malmesbury, 
a  representative  aristocrat,  who  had  distinguished  himself  as  a  diplo- 
matist in  Holland  by  organizing  the  Orange  party  to  sustain  the  Prus- 


^T.27]  THE    FALL    OF    VENICE  279 

sian  aims  against  the  rising  democracy  of  that  country.  Moreover,  the  ch.  xxxiu 
envoy  was  an  ultra-conservative  in  his  views  of  the  French  Revolution,  1797 
and,  beUeving  that  there  was  no  room  in  western  Em-ope  for  his  own 
country  and  her  great  rival,  thought  there  could  be  no  peace  until  France 
was  destroyed.  Burke  sneered  that  he  had  gone  to  Paris  on  his  knees. 
He  was  received  of  course  with  distrust,  and  many  behoved  his  real  er-  • 
rand  to  be  the  reorganization  of  a  royalist  party  in  France.  Moreo\'er, 
Delacroix,  minister  of  foreign  affau's,  was  a  naiTow,  shallow,  and  con- 
ceited man,  imable  either  to  meet  an  adroit  and  experienced  negotiator 
on  his  own  ground,  or  to  prepare  new  forms  of  diplomatic  combat,  as 
Bonaparte  had  done.  The  English  proposition  was  that  Great  Britain 
would  give  up  all  the  French  colonial  possessions  she  had  seized  dm-ing 
the  war,  provided  the  repubhc  would  abandon  Belgium.  It  is  well 
to  recall  in  this  connection  that  the  navigation  of  the  Sclieldt  has 
ever  been  an  object  of  the  highest  importance  to  England :  the  estab- 
Ushment  of  a  strong,  hostile  maritime  power  in  harbors  like  those  of  the 
Netherlands  would  menace,  if  not  destroy,  the  British  carrying-trade 
with  central  and  northern  Europe.  The  reply  of  the  Directoiy  was 
that  their  fundamental  law  forbade  the  consideration  of  such  a  point ; 
and  when  Mahnesbiuy  persisted  in  his  offer,  he  was  given  forty-eight 
hours  to  leave  the  country.  Hoche  was  at  once  despatched  to  Ireland ; 
but  wind  and  waves  were  adverse,  and  he  returned  to  replace  Jom-dan 
in  command  of  one  of  the  Rhine  armies,  the  latter  having  been  dis- 
graced for  his  failures  iu  Grermany. 

The  Directory,  with  an  eye  single  to  the  consohdation  of  the  repul)- 
hc,  cared  httle  for  Lombardy,  and  much  for  Belgium  with  the  Rhine 
frontier.  The  Austrian  minister  cared  little  for  the  distant  pro\'inces 
of  the  empire,  and  everything  for  a  compact  tenitorial  consolidation. 
The  successes  of  1796  had  secured  to  France  treaties  with  Pnissia,  Ba- 
varia, Wiiriemberg,  Baden,  and  the  two  cii'cles  of  Swabia  and  Franco- 
nia,  whereby  these  powers  consented  to  abandon  the  control  of  all  lands 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine  hitherto  belonging  to  them  or  to  tlio  Ger- 
manic body.  As  a  consequence  the  goal  of  the  Du'ectory  could  be 
reached  by  Austria's  consent,  and  Austria  appeared  to  be  wilhng.  The 
only  question  was,  Would  France  restore  the  ISIilanese?  Carnot  was 
emphatic  ia  the  expression  of  his  opinion  that  she  must,  and  his  col- 
leagues assented.  Accordingly,  Bonaparte  was  warned  that  no  expec- 
tations of  emancipation  must  be  awakened  in  the  Itahan  peoples.     But 


280  LIFE    OF   NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  xxxttt  such  a  warning  was  absui-d.  The  directors,  having  been  able  neither  to 
1797  support  their  general  with  adequate  reinforcements,  nor  to  pay  his 
troops,  it  had  been  only  in  the  role  of  a  hberator  that  Bonaparte  was 
successful  in  cajohng  and  conquering  Italy,  in  sustaining  and  arming 
his  men,  and  in  pouring  treasures  into  Paris.  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
-  he  saw  himseK  compelled  to  overthrow  Venice,  and  hold  it  as  a  substi- 
tute for  Lombardy  in  the  coming  trade  with  Austria.  But  the  directors 
either  could  not  or  would  not  at  that  time  enter  into  his  plans,  and  re- 
fused to  comprehend  the  situation. 

With  doubtful  good  sense  they  therefore  determined  in  November, 
1796,  to  send  an  agent  of  their  own  direct  to  Vienna.  They  chose  Gen- 
eral Clarke,  a  man  of  honest  purpose,  but  veiy  moderate  abiUty.  He 
must  of  course  have  a  previous  understanding  with  Bonaparte,  and  to 
that  end  he  journeyed  by  way  of  Italy.  Being  kindly  welcomed,  he 
was  entirely  befooled  by  his  subtle  host,  who  detained  him  with  idle 
suggestions  until  after  the  faU  of  Mantua,  when  to  his  amazement  he 
received  instructions  from  Paris  to  make  no  proposition  of  any  kind 
without  Bonaparte's  consent.  Then  followed  the  death  of  the  Czarina 
Catherine,  which  left  Austria  with  no  aUy,  and  aU  the  subsequent 
events  to  the  eve  of  Leoben.  Thugut  wanted  no  Jacobin  agitator  at 
Vienna,  and  informed  Clarke  that  he  must  not  come  thither,  but  might 
reach  a  diplomatic  understanding  with  the  Austrian  minister  at  Turin, 
if  he  could.  He  was  thus  comfortably  banished  from  the  seat  of  war 
dming  the  closing  scenes  of  the  campaign,  and  to  Bonaparte's  satisfac- 
tion could  not  of  course  reach  Leoben  in  time  to  conclude  the  prehmi- 
naries  as  the  accredited  agent  of  the  repubhc.  But  he  was  henceforth 
to  be  associated  with  Bonaparte  in  arranging  the  final  terms  of  peace ; 
and  to  that  end  he  came  of  course  to  Milan. 

The  court  at  Montebello  was  not  a  mere  levee  of  men.  There  was 
as  well  an  assemblage  of  brilhant  women,  of  whom  the  presiding  genius 
was  Mme.  Bonaparte.  Love,  doubt,  decision,  marriage,  separation,  had 
been  the  rapidly  succeeding  incidents  of  her  connection  with  Bonaparte 
in  Paris.  Though  she  had  made  ardent  professions  of  devotion  to  her 
husband,  the  marriage  vow  sat  but  hghtly  on  her  in  the  early  days  of 
their  separation.  Her  husband  appears  to  have  been  for  a  short  time 
more  constant,  but,  convinced  of  her  fickleness,  to  have  become  as  un- 
faithful as  she.  And  yet  the  complexity  of  emotions — ambition,  self- 
interest,  and  physical  attraction — which  seems  to  have  been  present  in 


IN    TIIK    MlSLIil    ijf    VtUSAll.LKS> 


I..VuK4Vl.l>    llV     IL    ".    TIJTTK 


EUGENIE-BERNARDINE-DESIREE   CLARY 

MME.   BERNADOTTE  ;    QUEEN   OF   SWEDEN 

FRDSI     THR     rAINTINIl     IIV     KUAN'fOIS    oCltAIIII 


^Et.  27]  THE    FALL    OF    VENICE  281 

both,  although  in  widely  different  degree,  sustained  something  like  cn.  xxxni 
genuine  ardor  in  him,  and  an  affection  sincere  enough  often  to  awaken  1797 
jealousy  in  her.  The  news  of  Bonaparte's  successive  victories  in  Italy 
made  his  wife  a  heroine  in  Paris.  In  all  the  salons  of  the  capital,  from 
that  of  the  directors  at  the  Luxembourg  downward  through  those  of 
her  more  aristocratic  but  less  poweiful  acquaintances,  she  was  feted  and 
caressed.  As  early  as  April,  1796,  came  the  first  summons  of  her  hus- 
band to  join  him  in  Italy.  Friends  explained  to  her  willing  ears  that  it 
was  not  a  French  custom  for  the  wives  of  generals  to  join  the  camp- 
train,  and  she  refused.  Resistance  but  served  to  rouse  the  passions  of 
the  young  conqueror,  and  his  fieiy  love-letters  reached  Paris  by  every 
courier.  Josephine,  however,  remained  unmoved ;  for  the  traditions  of 
her  admirers,  to  whom  she  showed  them,  made  hght  of  a  conjugal 
affection  such  as  that.  She  was  flattered,  but,  as  during  the  com-tship, 
slightly  lightened  by  such  addresses. 

In  due  time  there  were  symptoms  which  appeared  to  be  those  of 
pregnancy.  On  receipt  of  this  news  the  prospective  father  could  not 
contain  himself  for  joy.  The  letter  which  he  sent  has  been  preserved. 
It  was  written  from  Tortona,  on  June  fifteenth,  1796.  Life  is  but  a  vain 
show  because  at  such  an  hour  he  is  absent  from  her.  His  passion  had 
clouded  his  faculties,  but  if  she  is  in  pain  he  wiU  leave  at  any  hazard 
for  her  side.  Without  appetite,  and  sleepless;  without  thought  of 
friends,  glory,  or  country,  all  the  world  is  annihilated  for  hun  except 
herseK.  "I  care  for  honor  because  you  do,  for  victory  because  it  gratifies 
you,  othei-wise  I  would  have  left  aU  else  to  throw  myself  at  your  feet. 
Dear  friend,  be  sure  and  say  you  are  persuaded  that  I  love  you  above 
all  that  can  be  imagined — persuaded  that  every  moment  of  my  time  is 
consecrated  to  you ;  that  never  an  hour  passes  without  thought  of  you; 
that  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  think  of  another  woman ;  that  they  are 
aU  in  my  eyes  without  grace,  without  beauty,  without  wit ;  that  you  — 
you  alone  as  I  see  you,  as  you  are — could  please  and  absorb  all  the  fac- 
ulties of  my  soul;  that  you  have  fathomed  all  its  depths;  that  my  heart 
has  no  fold  unopened  to  you,  no  thoughts  which  are  not  attendant  upon 
you ;  that  my  strength,  my  arms,  my  mind,  are  all  yours ;  that  my  soul 
is  in  your  form,  and  that  the  day  you  change,  or  the  day  you  cease  to 
hve,  win  be  that  of  my  death ;  that  natm-e,  the  earth,  is  lovely  in  my 
eyes  only  because  you  dwell  within  it.  If  you  do  not  beUeve  aU  this,  if 
your  soul  is  not  persuaded,  satm-ated,  you  distress  me,  you  do  not  love 


282  LIFE    OF    NAPOLEON    BONAPARTE  [^t.  27 

ch.  y-yyni  me.  Between  those  who  love  is  a  magnetic  bond.  You  know  that  I 
1797  could  never  see  you  with  a  lover,  much  less  endure  your  having  one : 
to  see  him  and  to  tear  out  his  heart  would  for  me  be  one  and  the  same 
thing ;  and  then,  could  I,  I  would  lay  violent  hands  on  your  sacred  per- 
son. .  .  .  No,  I  would  never  dare,  but  I  would  leave  a  world  where 
that  which  is  most  virtuous  had  deceived  me.  I  am  confident  and 
proud  of  your  love.  Misfortunes  are  trials  which  mutually  develop  the 
strength  of  our  passion.  A  child  lovely  as  its  mother  is  to  see  the  light 
in  your  arms.  Wretched  man  that  I  am,  a  single  day  would  satisfy 
me !  A  thousand  kisses  on  your  eyes,  on  your  hps.  Adorable  woman ! 
what  a  power  you  have !  I  am  sick  with  your  disease :  besides,  I  have 
a  burning  fever.  Keep  the  courier  but  six  hours,  and  let  him  return  at 
once,  bringing  to  me  the  darling  letter  of  my  queen." 

At  length,  in  June,  when  the  first  great .  victories  had  been  won, 
when  the  symptoms  of  motherhood  proved  to  be  spurious  and  disap- 
peared, when  honors  like  those  of  a  sovereign  were  awaiting  her  in 
Italy,  Mme.  Bonaparte  decided  to  tear  herself  away  from  the  circle  of 
her  friends  in  Paris,  and  to  yield  to  the  ever  more  ui'gent  pleadings  of 
her  husband.  Traveling  imder  Junot's  care,  she  reached  Milan  early 
in  July,  to  find  the  general  no  longer  an  adventurer,  but  the  success- 
ful dictator  of  a  people,  courted  by  princes  and  kings,  adored  by  the 
masses,  and  the  arbiter  of  nations.  Rising,  apparently  without  an  ef- 
fort, to  the  height  of  the  occasion,  she  began  and  continued  through- 
out the  year  to  rival  in  her  social  conquests  the  victories  of  her  hus- 
band in  the  field.  Where  he  was  Caius,  she  was  Caia.  High-bom 
dames  sought  her  favor,  and  nobles  bowed  low  to  win  her  support.  At 
times  she  actually  braved  the  dangers  of  insurrection  and  the  battle-field. 
Her  presence  in  their  capital  was  used  to  soothe  the  exasperated  Vene- 
tians. To  gratify  her  spouse's  ardor,  she  journeyed  to  many  cities,  and 
by  a  mild  sympathy  moderated  somewhat  the  wild  ambitious  which 
the  scenes  and  character  of  his  successes  awakened  in  his  mind.  The 
heroes  and  poets  of  Rome  had  moved  upon  that  same  stage.  To  his 
consort  the  new  Csesar  unveiled  the  visions  of  his  heated  imagination, 
explained  the  sensations  aroused  in  him  by  their  shadowy  presence,  and 
imfolded  his  schemes  of  emulation.  Of  such  purposes  the  com-t  held 
during  the  summer  at  Montebello  was  but  the  natural  outcome.  Its 
historic  influence  was  incalculable :  on  one  hand,  by  the  prestige  it 
gave  in  negotiation  to  the  central  figure,  and  by  the  chance  it  afforded 


^T.  27]  THE    FALL    OF    VENICE  283 

to  fix  and  crystallize  the  indefinite  visions  of  the  hour;    on  the  other,   ch.  xxxm 
by  rendering  memorable  the  celebration  of  the  national  fete  on  July        ito? 
fourteenth,  1797,  an  event  arranged  for  political  purposes,  and  so  daz- 
zling as  to  fix  in  the  anny  the  intense  and  complete  devotion  to  their 
leader  which  made  possible  the  next  epoch  in  his  career. 

The  summer  was  a  season  of  enforced  idleness,  outwardly  and  as 
far  as  international  relations  were  concerned,  but  in  reahty  Bonaparte 
was  never  more  active  nor  more  successful.  In  February  the  Bank  of 
England  had  suspended  specie  payments,  and  in  March  the  price  of 
Enghsh  consols  was  fifty-one,  the  lowest  it  ever  reached.  The  bat- 
tle of  Cape  St.  Vincent,  fought  on  February  fourteenth,  destroyed 
the  Spanish  naval  power,  and  freed  Great  Britain  from  the  fear  of  a 
combination  between  the  French  and  Spanish  fleets  for  an  invasion. 
The  effect  on  the  Enghsh  people  was  magical.  Left  without  an  ally 
by  the  preliminaries  of  Leoben,  their  government  made  overtui*es  for 
peace,  but  when  the  effort  failed  they  were  not  dismayed.  It  required 
the  utmost  dihgence  in  the  use  of  personal  influence,  on  the  part  both 
of  the  French  general  and  of  his  wife,  to  thwart  the  prestige  of  Eng- 
lish naval  victory  among  the  European  diplomats  assembled  at  Monte- 
bello.  But  they  succeeded,  and  the  evidence  was  ultimately  given  not 
merely  in  great  matters  like  the  success  of  Fi-uctidor  or  the  peace  of 
Campo  Formio,  but  in  small  ones — such,  for  example,  as  the  speedy 
liberation  of  Lafayette  from  his  Austrian  prison. 


END  OF  VOLUME  I. 


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